uchadoll @dilabozkurt - Tumblr Blog

Appetizer.

—Emma Johnston

The moon is presumed mute—its silence is the silence of death. But when it does speak, it speaks in the language of shadows. You speak this language, too. It was your first language, our shared first language, the language of the dark. When you can’t scream in nightmares, it is the moon caught in your throat, a bright white rolling marble that garbles the voice, makes it choked and animal. Moonlight smells like chalkboard, like snowcloud, like a rock in the dirt. You can skin it with a glimpse, lay its pelt down by the hearth, and wrap yourself in its furred light. No weapons, no blood. A glimpse as it shifts in time; what a thing to witness, the full moon’s monthly resurrection.

The Hunter’s Moon is up, and “The Moon in Full” series continues at the Paris Review.

nemfrog

Witches in the air. The Devil in Britain and America. 1896.

metamorphesque

acknowledgments, danez smith

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell, I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth, I would know him dead at the end of the world.

- The Song of Achilles

#achilles #the song of achilles #achilles and patroclus #greek mythology #fanart #procreate #academia #dark academia #soft academia #lgbtq couple

tapedeck-archive

Oscar Wilde, from "De Profundis"

thesilicontribesman

Trial Brooch Design Piece, Jarlshof, National Museum of Scotland, Edinburgh, December 2019.

fotobilog

fionaappletini

laurence philomene/x/meadows on flickr/maus on flickr/lisa trimm/ana mendieta/david de las heras/melania brescia/giuliano federico/don’t you wonder, sometimes? by tracy k. smith

suonko

by Apollinary Mikhaylovich Vasnetsov

dianasson

[Image description: oil painting, small figure wearing black and white faces away from us towards a shore. They lean against a stone wall in an old cemetery, with cyprus and trees and vines growing amid the stones. A mausoleum stands just beyond, with a stone angel in vigil before it. End description.]