François Rousseau.
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François Rousseau.
Warren B. Davis, Mujer desnuda durmiendo, s. XIX.
Puente Golden Gate, San Francisco, California, EE. UU.
Vladimir Kireev, Contra la marea, 2013.
I’m coming back to you, the real world, crowded, dark, and full of fate—
Wisława Szymborska, from Map: Collected and Last Poems (via weltenwellen)
“La badinage” del Libro IV para piezas de viola da gamba de Marin Marais (1656-1728).
Michelangelo Buonarotti, Retrato de Andrea Quaratesi, 1532.
Cliffs of the Na Pali Coast by (iamkory)
Riscos en el Parque Nacional de Nā Pali, Hawaii, EE. UU. (foto de @iamkory)
I'm walking, Through streets that are dead Walking, Walking with you in my head My feet are so tired My brain is so wired And the clouds are weeping Did I, Hear someone tell a lie Did I, Hear someone's distant cry I spoke like a child You destroyed me with a smile While I was sleeping I'm sick of love That I'm in the thick of it This kind of love I'm so sick of it I see, I see lovers in the meadow I see, I see silhouettes in the window I watch them 'til they're gone And they leave me hangin' on To a shadow I'm sick of love I hear the clock tick This kind of love I'm lovesick Sometimes The silence can be like thunder Sometimes I want to take to the road of plunder Could you ever be true? I think of you and I wonder I'm sick of love I wish I'd never met you I'm sick of love I'm tryin' to forget you Just don't know what to do I'd give anything to be with you
Bob Dylan
Lidia Timoshenko, Yévgueni Oneguin, 1952.
Laura Wheeler Waring, Anna Washington Derry, 1927.
Holyrood Abbey. Edinburgh, Scotland.
Abadía de Holyrood, Edimburgo, Escocia.
“Virgencita [de Guadalupe]” para coro mixto a capella de Arvo Pärt (1935-)
José de Alcíbar (¿?), Exaltación del Patronato de la Virgen de Guadalupe, s. XVIII.