I’m ready. Are you sure? Yeah.
DEAR READER
occasionally subtle
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Mike Driver
wallacepolsom

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Xuebing Du
$LAYYYTER

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cherry valley forever

JBB: An Artblog!
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titsay
Show & Tell
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Peter Solarz
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
todays bird

Janaina Medeiros

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@ellathea
I’m ready. Are you sure? Yeah.
Do you ever feel it’s not coming from you at all? Yes. yes, it’s um, it’s as if I just chanced to be in the right place. and it chose me. Is that strange? No. I feel that too. When my writing is at it’s best. Will you allow me to read something? Emily (2022) dir. Frances O’Connor
Love? I know hunger, fear and heat. I know when hot blood spills into your mouth when you bite down in the flesh of a fresh kill.
Marlon James, Black Leopard, Red Wolf (via antigonick)
Alas, we are but King and Queen of the May. And tomorrow will come to strip us of our crowns.
Chris Pine and Florence Pugh in OUTLAW KING (2018) dir. David Mackenzie
Maybe we’ve both gone mad.
1899 | The Pyramid (1.06)
“Either I was a puzzle to be solved or he just thought that once he got to know me better, he could still break through to some other place, some core where another person lived inside of me. […] I told him point-blank, so there would be no mistake: This person he wanted to know better did not exist; I was who I seemed to be from the outside. That would never change.”
— Jeff VanderMeer, Annihilation
That’s me, a coast-less sea, a turbulent, obscure sea, beginning-less, fathomless, ageless; yet deep inside, I have a throbbing heart, passionate and fervent.
Mustapha Sanad, tr. & ed. Adil Babikir, Modern Sudanese Poetry: An Anthology; “The Old Sea” (via andrumedus)
Branimira Antonova
Procesat, Yakim Yakimov, 1968
Are you sure this is a sound idea? VIKINGS: VALHALLA 1.02
Miranda, c. 1895
Thomas Francis Dicksee
Mary Lambert, Shame Is an Ocean I Swim Across; “Why I Slept with Makeup on for Five Years”
The Property Room, c. 1879.
Arthur Hughes (British, 1832–1915)
Thomas Bromley Blacklock (British, 1863-1903)
Sea Maidens
Bonaventure cemetery, Savanah, Georgia ~ Dizzy Girl
Music moves me like the ocean swell.
Charles Baudelaire, tr. Aaron Poochigian, The Flowers of Evil, from “Spleen and the Ideal”; “Music” (via andrumedus)
“But grief compels me, maybe even more than sleep. I am waiting for something to last. I know nothing will.”
— Sanna Wani, “Who is the Sun, Asking for Sleep?”, My Grief, the Sun