ars longa, vita brevis

a.w. 19.

[aidoneusfirstborn-deactivated20]

all alone in versailles

[aidoneusfirstborn-deactivated20]

versailles, 05.05.2019

[janicesopranos]

watched banshees of inisherin again

[candleintower-deactivated202302]

John Singer Sargent (detail)

[engulfes]

girls when they're addicted to loneliness and desperation it's the strongest emotion they have ever known so their subconscious tells them it's their destiny

[engulfes]

it’s literally insane

[llovelymoonn]

the longing is killing me

lucille clifton the book of light: “climbing” \ pia brambley

buy me a turmeric latte

[davidhudson]

John Singer Sargent, January 12, 1856 – April 14, 1925.

In his studio in Paris with Portrait of Madame X (1884).

[henriprestes]

The coldest nights

[thoodleoo]

it's because youre always on that damn illuminated manuscript

[iloveyou-itllpass]

unpopular opinion maybe but waking up to rain on a quiet weekend is quite literally the most magical thing in the world

[litcrarum]

Richard Brautigan, Trout Fishing in America

[vida-imensa]

Frances  

[mea-gloria-fides]

[batwingdreams]

“Golden Angel” by xollob58

[wordsforyoungmen]

[booksandothersecrets]

Obsessed with the idea of sacrifice in a book being a selfish act rather than a selfless one. Their lover screaming at them: “How dare you leave me in this barren world? How dare you take away my choice to die for you and leave me with this grief?”. They are dead, and their lover is left - a gaping wound - bleeding into the ground. Do they love them so much that they would die for them, or do they love them so much that they forced the other to live without them? Sacrifice as a bitter act. Sacrifice as something wildly violent; something tormentingly cruel — but always, always built on love. Perhaps, they are both martyrs in the end.

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

— Clarice Lispector, from “Report on the Thing.”

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

— Raymond Carver, from “Gazebo.”