
Janaina Medeiros
$LAYYYTER
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

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DEAR READER
AnasAbdin
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KIROKAZE
occasionally subtle
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Origami Around

izzy's playlists!

pixel skylines
Three Goblin Art

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Keni
seen from Mexico

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Spain
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Spain
seen from India

seen from Mexico
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Hungary

seen from United States

seen from United States
@diaryoftheeye-blog
~camilla d’alfonso
~camilla d’alfonso
What are we here for if not to enjoy life eternal, solve what problems we can, give light, peace and joy to our fellow-man, and leave this dear fucked-up planet a little healthier than when we were born.~Henry Miller
Pablo Picasso (1881-1973) Deux nus couches Impressionist and Modern Art Evening Sale
‘Miragem’
Mark Rothko
Steven Alexander - True Love Never Dies
Pablo Picasso in his Studio (Atelier)
Photo by Edward Quiin
Pablo Picasso: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pablo_Picasso
Edward Quinn: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Quinn
“Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows. Man lies in the woman’s womb only to gather strength, he nourishes himself from this fusion, and then he rises and goes into the world, into his work, into battle, into art. He is not lonely. He is busy. The memory of the swim in amniotic fluid gives him energy, completion. Woman may be busy too, but she feels empty. Sensuality for her is not only a wave of pleasure in which she is bathed, and a charge of electric joy at contact with another. When man lies in her womb, she is fulfilled, each act of love a taking of man within her, an act of birth and rebirth, of child rearing and man bearing. Man lies in her womb and is reborn each time anew with a desire to act, to be. But for woman, the climax is not in the birth, but in the moment man rests inside of her.”
― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934 (via awkwardseductress)
Ray Johnson. Robert Rauschenberg, 1972 Collage on illustration board 52 x 39 cm Private collection, Paris. Raven Row London.