@francesbakernow - Tumblr Blog

weird

I feel I have spent my whole life walking in your shadow

the black melts over me

I was there so long, I did not realize. I had been compromised

my skin sticky.

I am soaked in your collateral

janasojka

Night Landscapes.

mdeanstrauss

Near perfect spiral petroglyph in the New Mexico high desert…

and now what?? Now I guess I move forward and look look look

tucking away, into my own little world. I want some space. I want some peace

janasojka

NIGHT DRIVE.

monitre0019

ultraviolentmoonlightchild

Gives me forks vibes

itscolossal

The Phenomenon Of “Crown Shyness” Where Trees Avoid Touching

elli0ttt

𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢/𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 <𝟹

(𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 :)

I miss when I was nothing. Not often do I feel so connected to my surroundings. Often I do feel connected to the nothingness. I feel I am familiar with the sound of tires against wet pavement. I look at flowers and rain and see a friend. I want to be with them again. So I sit, with silent intention. The intention to listen to a Childs laughter, to listen to a tantrum. To drive with rain thrusted against my window, to jump of rocky creek beds into the water. I want to sit in the sun, and wear flowing clothing. I want to walk in the woods, to never feel alone.

I play in the forrest with moss. I make a bed and stack twigs to make tiny walls. I am like a tree, I do not loose parts of myself as I age, but rather grow up around them. To the outside, I have aged. On the inside, I exist in all these layers and capacities.To the world, when I was a baby I was new, I was young. In myself, that is the oldest part of me. I have been a child much longer then I have been an adult, it is my core. Afraid, new, overwhelmed. Age is like a callus. Each year I learn to protect my inside more. I am now my own mother, tending to my childish wounds.

Does it have to be eloquent and complex to be a deep reflection of emotion? This internal experiences- these abstract thoughts, can any words be better then others at converting a feeling from oneself to another?? I heard once an argument between two people. one that argued that nothing felt could be understood in words, the other, that words are the only vessel to understanding. Aren’t they both right and wrong. I hear people around me. I see them pouring themselves into riddles and complexity. Working, striving for perfection. When I am around them I feel a million miles away. I stand by strangers, we don't exchange a word, I don’t speak their language. I look at them and I feel my soul shatter. How can perfection communicate feelings which are so imperfect and raw? How can something abstract ever be fabricated