岡田紅陽
- 天長断崖 (花蓮)
1939
アサヒカメラ 1941年9月号
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
occasionally subtle

shark vs the universe
Peter Solarz

★

Discoholic 🪩

roma★
🪼
KIROKAZE
trying on a metaphor

if i look back, i am lost
DEAR READER

tannertan36
taylor price
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

No title available
$LAYYYTER
Cosimo Galluzzi
noise dept.
ojovivo
seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Denmark

seen from New Zealand
seen from Tunisia
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Germany

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from India
seen from Poland
seen from France
seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@ibrahiimah
岡田紅陽
- 天長断崖 (花蓮)
1939
アサヒカメラ 1941年9月号
Some romance.
“One day the war will be over, and I can return to my poem.”
oh moon, hungry moon, unkissed & silent, I would kiss you.
Chen Chen, Race to the Tree (via metamorphesque)
Cocteau Twins - Crushed (Mysterious Skin)
La Vie Sur Terre (Life on Earth) 1999. dir. Abderrahmane Sissako
Dry Season
directed by Mahamat-Saleh Haroun, 2006
Amy Lowell, sword blades and poppy seeds
And there, in front of them, in the room with us, stood the family, their outlines barely visible within the weight of the room’s light. It was a light that shone over our faces, our wounds and scars. It was a light so brilliant and white it could have been beamed from heaven, and Brian and I could have been angels, basking in it. But it wasn’t, and we weren’t.
Scott Heim, Mysterious Skin (via skamortuus)
Chinese Restaurant Menu Items That Sound Like Titles of Cocteau Twins’ Songs by Scott Heim
I was a biography in constant motion, memory to the marrow of my bones.
Philip Roth, from American Pastoral (Houghton Mifflin, 1997)
Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak; “Concerns from a hot-boxed jeep”
[Text ID: “How do I stop / carrying everything / that had ever / happened to me?”]
Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.
Victor Nizovtsev, Reflections
Fernando Pessoa, from The Book of Disquiet
Fernando Pessoa // Michel Foucault