SINĂAD CUSACK and JEREMY IRONS being that couple in Mathilde (2004) 1/2
Game of Thrones Daily

Jar Jar Binks Fan Club

#extradirty
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Today's Document
taylor price
No title available
official daine visual archive
art blog(derogatory)
â
macklin celebrini has autism
todays bird

No title available
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Discoholic đȘ©

Andulka

No title available

@theartofmadeline
Aqua Utopiaïœæ”·ăźćșă§èšæ¶ă玥ă
$LAYYYTER
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from Spain

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom

seen from France
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Spain

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Poland

seen from Germany

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
@frost-tipped-orchards
SINĂAD CUSACK and JEREMY IRONS being that couple in Mathilde (2004) 1/2
Dunnottar Castle, Stonehaven, Scotland
JEREMY IRONS looking very soldierly in his olive-green shirt in Mathilde (2004)
JEREMY IRONS in Mathilde (2004), really delivering those military Alfred vibes
This little piece of wood had an awesome variety of lichen!
JEREMY IRONS in Mathilde (2004)
NUTSA KUKHIANIDZE and JEREMY IRONS in Mathilde (2004)
Don John seems to be the only character in all literature capable of recognising someone wearing a mask
This has been an Antoine appreciation post.
Vincent van Gogh, Flower Beds in Holland, c. 1883 The National Gallery of Art Washington
The feminine urge to eat a manâs heart in the marketplace
Josef Sudek - Untitled (forest), 1948
NUTSA KUKHIANIDZE and JEREMY IRONS in Mathilde (2004)
âWhen I remember [that time], I think of it as dancing. Dancing with eyes half closed because to open them would break the spell. Dancing as if language had surrendered to movementâas if this ritual, this worldless ceremony, was now the way to speak, to whisper private and sacred things, to be in touch with some otherness. Dancing as if the very heart of life and all its hopes might be found in those assuaging notes and those hushed rhythms and in those silent and hypnotic movements. Dancing as if language no longer existed because words were no longer necessary.â
â Brian Friel, Dancing at Lughnasa
âWhen I cast my mind back to that summer of 1936, different kinds of memories offer themselves to me. But there is one memory of that Lughnasa time that visits me most often; and what fascinates me about that memory is that is owes nothing to fact. In that memory atmosphere is more real than incident and everything is simultaneously actual and illusory. In that memory, too, the air is nostalgic with the music of the thirties. It drifts in from somewhere far away â a mirage of sound â a dream music that is both heard and imagined; that seems to be both itself and its own echo; a sound so alluring and so mesmeric that the afternoon is bewitched, maybe haunted, by it.â
Brian Friel, âDancing At Lughnasaâ
Frank Macoy Harshberger (1900-1975), âTristan and Iseultâ by Joseph BĂ©dier, 1927 Source