KIROKAZE
sheepfilms
Claire Keane
pixel skylines
No title available
YOU ARE THE REASON
The Bowery Presents
Andulka
Origami Around
Cosimo Galluzzi
Today's Document
No title available
Game of Thrones Daily
Not today Justin
Misplaced Lens Cap
EXPECTATIONS
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Mike Driver
cherry valley forever
tannertan36
seen from Algeria
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Vietnam
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Puerto Rico
seen from Australia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@dreamweaversiren
(Estas fotos no me pertenecen/These pictures do not belong to me)
He estado reescribiendo en un largo proyecto las tres cartas de "Para mi Podrida Prometida" con una calidad de prosa mucho mayor :)
Así que acá hay un moodboard porque sí.
from "Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin (1939-1947)"
"-unless I am myself, I am nobody." -Virginia Woolf
I have a chronic melancholy for things I have never lived
iconic behaviour: rereading wuthering heights just to feel something
Women of the Resistance (Liliana Cavani, 1965)
I yearn for the feeling of being seen
“I am the main character” girl you’re the unreliable narrator.
Sylvia Plath, from a letter featured in The Letters of Sylvia Plath Vol. 1: 1940-1956
Hot take:
Ellen is the worst character of Wuthering Heights
Alejandra Pizarnik, translated by Yvette Sierge, from a poem titled "4, Untitled,"
How could I live without dreaming? How could I live forever caged in a four-walled-concrete cube, perfectly made, when they cruelly put a window in one of its gray walls and shelves with books which whisper to us about faraway lands and forgotten times? How could I live forever knowing I will never be the woman in that ancient castle wearing a velvet dress and crowning myself with a silver tiara made of thornes? How could I keep breathing if the shimmering, crystal clear lakes are forbbiding from swimming and kept out of reach by a carway made by the pragmatic hands of a human? How, pray tell me, do you intend me not to die if fireflies are dying and ciccadas don't sing anymore on the summer evenings? How can you tell me not to dream when the gloomy forest was replaced with a crop field of soy?
Why? Why do you want me to be only capable of seeing the paper work in front of me and to think only about the bills I have to pay?
Why aren't you tired of hearing cars and chatter instead of birds and rivers flowing? Why are you okay with white corals and whales being given death?
Why do you call overconsumption economic growth? Why do you believe you are comfortable and happy in the four-walled-concrete cube which is nothing but a prison with the name of "home"? How does your soul not scream at the sight of the sea, imploring you to let yourself free? How does your heart not ache when a tree falls and a gun shot is heard because they have just shot down the last black giraffe?
And why don't you long for the old days and are perfectly fine with an old building being pulled down?
What future do you seek? What future do you think you will find?
(Just gibberish)
Homemade pasta, coffee liqueur, Chet Baker, good literature and gentle cuddles
If anything, it was Camilla he seemed fondest of, Camilla he bent over attentively when she spoke, Camilla who was most often the recipient of his infrequent smiles.
if he’s not like this, i don’t want it
