a dead heat in a summer afternoon, laying in the lavender field. the sun shining down on your skin, the air is sweet and the wind blows softly through the tall grass.
ojovivo

Discoholic 🪩
Peter Solarz

Love Begins

blake kathryn
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
styofa doing anything

Kiana Khansmith

JBB: An Artblog!
Cosmic Funnies
RMH
Xuebing Du
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Origami Around

shark vs the universe
Mike Driver
Keni
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@godsthetics
a dead heat in a summer afternoon, laying in the lavender field. the sun shining down on your skin, the air is sweet and the wind blows softly through the tall grass.
Jules Joseph Lefebvre - Judith (detail) - 1892
an old book. the pages smell dusty and musty and wonderful. the worn binding and yellowed parchment holds an entire world in letters and words. you can hold this world within your hands; see how powerful you are?
…a generation grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken.
F. Scott Fitzgerald on the Jazz Age
Holy places are dark places. It is life and strength, not knowledge and words, that we get in them. Holy wisdom is not clear and thin like water, but thick and dark like blood.”
(via queerprophets)
I Love Art → Nicola Samorì (1977-)
2016 three step plan :
1) burn my belongings 2) abandon my loved ones 3) retreat into the mistiest mountain I can find
Art by Nicola Samori
But you tell me something the story never did: Look back at the burning city. Still, live.
Aracelis Girmay, from “English Class” in Kingdom Animalia (via pigmenting)
louise bourgeois
walk through ancient ruins and remember them as they were
El Pintor hands.
not everything can be saved.
untitled by Masa :-D on Flickr.
Tea left to chill accidentally is a sacrifice, unintentional but appreciated, to passing spirits. To the eldritch, nothing ever goes to waste.