One of my favorite users came back online this week; the day is good
Misplaced Lens Cap
Keni

blake kathryn

shark vs the universe
I'd rather be in outer space šø

titsay
NASA

No title available
hello vonnie
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Xuebing Du

⣠Chile in a Photography ā£

Product Placement

pixel skylines
art blog(derogatory)
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
dirt enthusiast
todays bird

oozey mess
KIROKAZE

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@gummibandito
One of my favorite users came back online this week; the day is good
1994
Why the "S" ?
we all have more than one soulmate, hence the plural. there are different subtypes as well and on top of that, because itās within all nature to change over time, it goes without saying that so does our blueprint of our ideal soulmate :)
After the first
conflagration
when many hands
barely larger than your own
held you down
and burned away the fragility
surrounding your heart,
you forgot what it was like
to let your eyes roam the grass
for earthworms
or gaze upwards
to find early stars;
you were too busy
archiving every face
wondering what
the warning signs
look like
and making exits
out of sidewalks and aisles
because the playground
never truly let you leave
Güzel fantazišš
Sonra da arka koltuÄa geƧip
I think I might finally be where I'm supposed to be
why does the wall
insist I have my back
against it
- Growing/Dying by The Backseat Lovers
hummingbird moth
The Sensory Relief of Tumblr I never liked YouTube as a viewer. My opinion changed slowly over the past few years and I thought Iād try to create a slow, diary-type channel, just fragments of daily life. Big mistake.Ā Even as a quiet, back-street "slow channel" or an isolated Booktuber from the sticks, you are judged so much on neurotypical behavior. Youāre judged on how your bedroom looks, whether someone likes your random 90s pop culture posters, how you speak, how you look, or how old you are. Nothing new in that. But on YouTube, itās magnified to horrifying levels. The first thing you learn is that people expect you to host or entertain. They donāt understand the "Iām sharing something" vibe. To them, itās just an act. A chosen image. But more than that: itās the noise decibels. Everything screams long and loud. Thereās no easy way to be "quiet" on YouTube. Even when youāre saying, "I am not performing for the algorithm," people think youāre being defensive, edgy, or moody. Youāre a punk rocker stuck in a locked cupboard.Ā You have to play by the rules to be let out. If you donāt hook people in the first five seconds, YouTube likely wonāt push you. And when they donāt push you, itās harder to be found by anyone. Itās a lonely place to find connection. And yes, some people do YouTube or any other social media platform to try and find their tribe. Meanwhile, Iād forgotten about Tumblr. I can become so hyper-focused on one thing that I didnāt even think Tumblr was a thing anymore. It seems it absolutely is. Now, Iām not saying that Tumblr doesnāt share social media issues or that everything is perfect and wonderful. But the contrast is so noticeable. Thereās poetry here. There are quiet people who want to be quiet and are still part of things. Marginalized people have their posts appreciated and form communities. Some stay away from the social side of things but feel at home. And itās one of the few places left on the internet where you arenāt boxed in by one subject.Ā On Flickr, you post and comment about photos. On YouTube, itās video or podcasts. On TikTok, itās the power of the short. On Tumblr, you can go from a homemade doodle of a trans couple, to beautiful poetry, to lo-fi photography, to a kitten sleeping on a bed. Scrolling around feels more tactile, grounded, sensory, and safe. A four-second video clip of raindrops bouncing quietly on a cottage roof; the quiet, rhythmic clank of an old steam train; a monochrome image of interesting reflections or shadows. Writers, poets, dreamers, activists, outsiders, insiders, young, old, everybodyall mixed up in this timeless capsule of self-reflection and expression. Shame on me for forgetting it existed.
safe with me