Hieronymus Bosch
Misplaced Lens Cap
art blog(derogatory)
Acquired Stardust
DEAR READER
One Nice Bug Per Day
dirt enthusiast
YOU ARE THE REASON
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
i don't do bad sauce passes

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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Sade Olutola
Peter Solarz

tannertan36

oozey mess

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blake kathryn
noise dept.
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@epeba
Hieronymus Bosch
Werner Herzog - La Soufriere
ZOMBIE CREEPING FLESH /HELL OF THE LIVING DEAD Directed by Vincent Dawn (Bruno Mattei)
Un rêve plus long que la nuit, Niki De Saint Phalle
A Dream Longer Than the Night (Niki de Saint Phalle, 1976)
The Coachman
Jacob Lawrence
LA ÚLTIMA CENA // THE LAST SUPPER (1976) dir. TOMAS GUTIERREZ ALEA
LA ÚLTIMA CENA // THE LAST SUPPER (1976) dir. TOMAS GUTIERREZ ALEA
Wherever I encounter him, I'll crush him under my heel, even if it costs me my leg.
— Astrid Roemer, On a Woman's Madness
my daily habit of continuing on
Grey Park - Grey Park (2008)
Mira Fonseca (Otalia de Bahia, 1976)
To My Children, Fearing for Them
by Wendell Berry
Terrors are to come. The earth is poisoned with narrow lives. I think of you. What you will live through, or perish by, eats at my heart. What have I done? I need better answers than there are to the pain of coming to see what was done in blindness, loving what I cannot save. Nor, your eyes turning toward me, can I wish your lives unmade though the pain of them is on me.
Good Bones
by Maggie Smith
Life is short, though I keep this from my children. Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways, a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative estimate, though I keep this from my children. For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird. For every loved child, a child broken, bagged, sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.