✘✘

/It was never real/

[aceinthetrap]

@张流儿ZLer

[lronage-deactivated20250901]

[theinternetarchive]

'eclipse of the sun,' the first photograph of a solar eclipse. frederick and william langenheim, 1854.

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

…oh, I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve wasted all these years looking for something, a sort of trophy I’d get only if I really, really did enough to deserve it. But I don’t want it any more, I want something else now, something warm and sheltering, something I can turn to, regardless of what I do, regardless of who I become. Something that will just be there, always, like tomorrow’s sky.

– Kazuo Ishiguro, When We Were Orphans

[luthienne]

“Words, words—how they strangle the soul of one!”

— Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin, featured in A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953

[thoughtcascades]

I just need to go to prison and just focus on myself

[neckkiss]

neither..

[bellafleurz]

[delicatethunders]

[permeate]

“In the end, always laugh. And do not lose this strange habit of having faith in life.”

— Daniel C. L.  (via convertions)

[mtfautoandrophile]

i think it is good to warn people in advance about the circumstances that will cause you to bite them and i think that having given that warning it is good to follow through when the time comes

[mtndewbassdrop]

[mydarling-suggestions]

i could lie here in your arms for the rest of my life and still wish for more time

[olyoil2-deactivated20250812]

People are like “it’s so beautiful no clouds at all” it could use a little clouds if I had to be honest.

[cybervoidd]

[existential-celestial]

the perpetual wish to pocket all the skies my eyes have gathered

[feral-ballad]

Topaz Winters, from Portrait of My Body as a Crime I'm Still Committing; “High Specific Heat”

[Text ID: “When you smiled, the morning blushed pink / & gold. Violent & tender. Horrifying & warm. / My ache left me behind. I thought: okay. / I could get used to this. / & I did. I got used to you. You became a habit / & god knows I can never get rid of habits. / You, who told me I was worthy. / You, full of ink that tasted like wine—you / translucent & dreaming of flight.”]