This note was written by a child who was listening in on a bunch of artists discussing art and life.
Not today Justin

blake kathryn
Show & Tell

izzy's playlists!
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Three Goblin Art
Claire Keane

if i look back, i am lost

@theartofmadeline
hello vonnie
NASA

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Jules of Nature
Cosimo Galluzzi
Misplaced Lens Cap
dirt enthusiast
Stranger Things
noise dept.
wallacepolsom
seen from T1
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
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seen from South Korea

seen from Netherlands

seen from Türkiye
seen from South Korea
seen from Oman
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
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seen from United States
@johnprine69
This note was written by a child who was listening in on a bunch of artists discussing art and life.
Eliseu Visconti Nu Féminin 1894
Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Fred Hellerman and Jean Ritchie in the WNYC studios, 1949
the reluctant bride, august toulmouche / lila cerullo, my brilliant friend
instagram | prints
“A big part of my musical education was me saying to myself, “I wanna listen to primarily women, and I don’t wanna listen to the [male] legends. When I was finally able to settle down and get a record player, I only wanted to listen to Billie Holiday or Bessie Smith, or Nina Simone. I wanted to educate myself about female musicians. And only after I felt like I did that for a good period of time was I able to listen to Sam[’s advice — guitarist Sam Doores of the Deslondes is Segarra’s frequent collaborator] and listen to some Dylan.”
—
Alynda Lee Segarra of Hurray for the Riff-Raff.
partysoft.
(via locusimperium)
reading tender is the night by f. scott fitzgerald and it's so mediocre... read some hemingway last month that was also pretty mediocre... the lost generation writers are NOT living up to my hopes. if anyone has recommendations (from the 1920s-1940s) that you really enjoy, pls let me knowww
rainer maria rilke, letters to a young poet
Sharing a Cigarette with Joan of Arc, Dante Émile
women of country
made some affirmations for my fellow grocery shoppers out there
“Everything touches me—I see too much, I hear too much, everything demands too much of me.”
— Clarice Lispector II Why This World: A Biography of Clarice Lispector (via violentwavesofemotion)
Celsius is so low res y’all have like 3 possible numbers it can be outside
i wish u could still jsut show up at ur friends house and knock on the door and ask them to go for a walk but now it’s like a 3 month request on someone’s google calendar for a 1 hour $80 coffee date just to see someone
louise bourgeois, together / hildegard von bingen, the holy trinity
"Later came the summer nights. Sweet, dense Mediterranean nights took over Barcelona, with golden juice flowing from the moon, with the damp odor of sea nymphs combing their watery hair over white shoulders, over the scales of golden tails... On one of those hot nights, hunger, sadness, and the power of my youth brought me to a swoon of feeling, a physical need for tenderness as avid and dusty as scorched earth with a presentiment of the storm."
"'Perhaps the meaning of life for a woman consists solely in being discovered like this, looked at so that she herself feels radiant with light.' Not in looking at, not in listening to the poisons and stupidities of others, but in experiencing fully the joy of her own feelings and sensations, her own despair and happiness. Her own evil or goodness..."
"But not long ago, on that desperate night, which Gloria's talk had recalled for me, I'd seen them again fused into one until they could feel the pounding of each other's blood, loving each other, leaning on each other in the same sorrow. And it was like the end of all hatred, all incomprehension. 'If on that night' -- I thought -- 'the world had ended or one of them had died, their story would have been completely closed and beautiful, like a circle.' That's how it happens in novels, in films, but not in life... I was realizing, for the first time, that everything goes on, turns grey, is ruined in the living. That there is no end to our story until death comes and the body decays..."
Nada, Carmen Laforet