— Jean-Paul Sartre, from The Flies (tr. by Stuart Gilbert & Lionel Abel), 1943 (via lunamonchtuna)
Today's Document
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
tumblr dot com
ojovivo
occasionally subtle
$LAYYYTER
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

oozey mess

No title available
almost home

Origami Around
Sade Olutola
todays bird

PR's Tumblrdome

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available

Janaina Medeiros
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Brazil

seen from India

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from China

seen from Malaysia

seen from Japan

seen from United States

seen from Brazil
@disspleasure
— Jean-Paul Sartre, from The Flies (tr. by Stuart Gilbert & Lionel Abel), 1943 (via lunamonchtuna)
Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.
Emery Allen
@seenaya/instagram
I think of you often and my love is with you wherever you are.
August 2nd, 1963 Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters First published: 1977
06.08.25 Wanna guess how much I got done after taking these pictures? (Hint: achievement of the day was eating fresh fruit)
L. V., excerpts from a past life
I arrived back to the land just as the sky began to wake in a pale wash of blue and grey. The Walsh house glew orange through a half-moon window down the valley. The birds filled my ears with their constant song—a thousand calls and voices swirling around the goldenrod and dew-bearing grasses, tall and cricket-filled. I walked under the power lines and down my trail towards the faint stained glass and cut curtains coloring my windows.
A crescent moon, clear and white as bone, hung above the tree line as I plugged in my guitar to the Fishman and began playing a tune I’d started back in Los Angeles—a song about returning home. And here I sat in my shire, beside a shed full of plants and organs, built with care by the hands of myself and many who I love most.
Soon Gali, Micah, and Emma arrived and came over the hill, drenched in blue and still beyond the veil of a mushroom trip. Emma and Micah danced in laughter as I improvised a little song. The birds joined in unison as they swirled. Gali brushed her teeth beside me, hunched into herself to keep warm.
We entered the studio where our temporary mattress lay, and I drained the room of its golden light with the twist of a key. The light, now dim and gathering up mainly in bunches around the windows, was soft as I pulled the quilt up over Gali and me.
The words “I’m not a queen, I’m a woman, take my hand. We’ll make a space in the lives we’ve planned” rang out quietly as she pulled herself atop me and we shared a long kiss, then another and another—my hands holding the back of her head, the weight of her body pressed close against me, the birds ever calling, louder as the room slowly brightened.
Paris - July 3rd, 2011
Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise.
more light indie here // photo credit
“Healing doesn’t mean the damage never existed. It means it no longer controls our lives”
— Anuprita
“Pay attention to the things you are naturally drawn to. They are often connected to your path, passion, and purpose in life. Have the courage to follow them.”
— Ruben Chavez
I think about how hayao miyazaki said that love is two people inspiring each other to live. and to live doesn’t just mean to be alive. living involves finding beauty in the simple moments of being. so to inspire someone to be in awe of the simplicity of living? that’s special