— Anaïs Nin, from The Voice
Claire Keane
h
noise dept.
will byers stan first human second
Cosmic Funnies

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

Product Placement
Jules of Nature

JVL
Misplaced Lens Cap

tannertan36
taylor price
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Love Begins

Kiana Khansmith
Sade Olutola
cherry valley forever
ojovivo

shark vs the universe
Cosimo Galluzzi
seen from Italy

seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy

seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Italy
seen from Bangladesh

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Peru
seen from Peru
seen from United States

seen from Czechia
seen from United States
@ink-quill-ab
— Anaïs Nin, from The Voice
YOU ARE YOUNG AND YOU STILL HAVE TIME TO BE A PERSON ⭐️ 1) Bright Dead Things by Ada Limón (2015) / 2) Katrin Lillenthal // 3) At the Kitchen Sink by Camille. A. Balla // 5) From this Ask Polly 6) Little Weirds by Jenny Slate (2019) // 7) NASA // 8) The Diaries 1910 - 1923 by Franz Kafka // 9) this photo here // 10) Blue Horses poems by Mary Oliver
regarding the röttgen pietà, elle emerson
she let me hit because of my oblique intertextual references
“You can say anything and I will not abandon you.”
Helen Oyeyemi, from “White Is for Witching”
Nikki Giovanni, The Collected Poetry, 1968-1998
October by Mary Oliver
life actually gets better when you leave the house consistently btw like im serious
Aria Aber, from Hard Damage; “How to pronounce John Frusciante correctly”
[Text ID: “But how ironic I must be / to have entered a language / wherein I mistake / I will leave you / for / I will love you”]
Aria Aber, from Hard Damage; “Rilke and I”
[Text ID: “Whether you want it or not, in you sleeps a woman of war,”]
Karina Borowicz, September Tomatoes
[text ID: The whiskey stink of rot has settled / in the garden, and a burst of fruit flies rises / when I touch the dying tomato plants. / Still, the claws of tiny yellow blossoms / flail in the air as I pull the vines up by the roots / and toss them in the compost. / It feels cruel. Something in me isn’t ready / to let go of summer so easily. To destroy / what I’ve carefully cultivated all these months. / Those pale flowers might still have time to fruit. / My great-grandmother sang with the girls of her village / as they pulled the flax. Songs so old / and so tied to the season that the very sound / seemed to turn the weather.]
― Mieko Kawakami, Heaven
trista mateer, from “girl, isolated”
nononono what will i do with ol Grizzler
willem & jude + the moon song