— franz kafka, letters to milena
Not today Justin
Keni
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Discoholic 🪩
Stranger Things

JBB: An Artblog!

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
AnasAbdin

Origami Around
noise dept.

PR's Tumblrdome
art blog(derogatory)
hello vonnie

Janaina Medeiros

No title available

JVL
DEAR READER

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

@theartofmadeline

if i look back, i am lost
seen from Brazil

seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Russia

seen from Germany
@fehling
— franz kafka, letters to milena
good morning from the ethnographic museum of brașov
1Q84, Haruki Murakami
[text ID: You lost all interest in this world. You were disappointed and discouraged, and lost interest in everything. So you abandoned your physical body. You went to a world apart and you’re living a different kind of life there. In a world that’s inside you.]
˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗
"I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break."
-Marya Hornbacher, Wasted
“Sometimes I feel autumn / is a doorway to grieving”
— Kelli Russell Agodon, from “Bite”
misty by webeyer
Has anyone else noticed that it's bad
Natalie Díaz, from "American Arithmetic", Postcolonial Love Poem
― 1Q84, Haruki Murakami
[text ID: I am nothing. I’m like someone who’s been thrown into the ocean at night, floating all alone. I reach out, but no one is there. I call out, but no one answers. I have no connection to anything.]
˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗
Unknown
– Susan Sontag
constantly on this search
I had a sense of myself as a haunted house. I never knew when the invisible thing would strike – and it was like a blow, a kind of winding in the chest or stomach. When I felt it I would cry out at the force of it.
Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal
snow angel