
Origami Around
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pixel skylines
YOU ARE THE REASON
occasionally subtle
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

izzy's playlists!
Monterey Bay Aquarium
The Stonewall Inn
noise dept.
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
macklin celebrini has autism
Today's Document

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Noah Kahan
KIROKAZE
almost home
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye

seen from Netherlands
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from Colombia

seen from Türkiye
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seen from Germany
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@ilikesweating
“She admired me for having studied Latin. I was in awe of someone who could lay down beauty on paper.”
Spring in the Parapara | Bernadette Hall & Joanna Margaret Paul
I make this note of dread, I register it. Neither my note or critique of it Will save us one iota. I know it. And.
A Part Song | Denise Riley
'The designer buried garments in a friend’s garden, then dug them up, a sort of ruin in reverse' Hussein Chalayan, The Tangent Flows, 1993.
I must write! It's going to be like smashing granite with fists, like turning myself inside out and exposing all my secrets to the outside world. I must write! To rid myself of these devils, to put my tormented soul finally to rest instead of letting it float in a pool of shame and sorrow. I must push on! Even if some hours spent at my desk appear wasted, or some of the story-lines I begin have to be discarded, I must press on. Otherwise the pain will be unbearable.
The Sorrow of War | Bao Ninh
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"It is always a chain of relationships that I consider - it is not only my father and mother, but also my aunt lying at home, sick and weak. And it is not only my aunt, but also her whole family. And then I see other connections that are hard to break." War diary | Yevgenia Belorusets
mood across the pages
To love what is plentiful
as much as
what’s scarce.
We alone | Alice Walker
“Somehow in this country sea thoughts followed the thinker far inland”
Sylvia’s Lovers | Elizabeth Gaskell
Man seated on a blue sofa | Paul Wonner
“And have we room
for one more folded sunset, still quite warm?”
Questions of travel | Elizabeth Bishop
The hours hung like fruit in night's tree means when I close my eyes and look inside me, a thousand open eyes span the moment of my waking.
A table in the wilderness | Li-Young Lee