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One Nice Bug Per Day
occasionally subtle

★
Sade Olutola

ellievsbear
Misplaced Lens Cap
Keni
RMH

#extradirty
Cosmic Funnies
YOU ARE THE REASON
sheepfilms
DEAR READER
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Jules of Nature
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

if i look back, i am lost
todays bird

Janaina Medeiros

shark vs the universe

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from India
seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
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seen from Germany

seen from United States
@dorian-fruitcake
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'The Origin of the Harp of Elfin' (c. 1890), Henry Jones Thaddeus (Irish, 1859-1929)
It's gonna work out. It's gonna work out. It's gonna work out.
Marilyn Monroe in her room at the Beverly Carlton Hotel, 1951. Photo by Phil Burchman.
Postcolonial Love Poem, ‘Wolf OR-7′ by Natalie Diaz
[ID: I confuse instinct for desire - isn’t bite also touch?]
Marilyn Monroe reading “Leaves of Grass” by Walt Whitman in Los Angeles, 1951. Photo by David Cicero.
“How lovely it is that there are words and sounds! Are not words and sounds rainbows and illusive bridges between things which are eternally apart? . . . Speaking is a beautiful folly.”
Thus Spoke Zarathustra
Friedrich Nietzsche
Agapit Stevens La Danse du Serpent
𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖚𝖒 | iridessence photography + gold frame photography
Edward Hopper's sketchbook
“I am not actually tired, but numb and heavy, and can’t find the right words.”
— Franz Kafka, from a letter to Felice Bauer, c. November 1912
– Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
[text ID: Someday, god knows when, I will stop this absurd, self-pitying, idle, futile despair.]
Chelsea Hodson // Saeed Jones
“Melancholy ... is the character of mortality.”
The Anatomy of Melancholy
Robert Burton
“My flesh looked like it wasn’t trying. It looked like it hated being part of me.”
— Charles Bukowski, Pulp
― Anne Carson, Eros the Bittersweet
[text ID: To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.]
— Elena Ferrante, The Story of a New Name
[text ID: I gave in continuously, with painful pleasure, to waves of unhappiness.]