
Kiana Khansmith
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
tumblr dot com

oozey mess
Monterey Bay Aquarium
untitled
art blog(derogatory)
Color Me Curious
★
Keni
Phantogram Three

#extradirty
Today's Document

@theartofmadeline
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
noise dept.
Fieri Frames

seen from Ecuador
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from Vietnam
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Indonesia
seen from Venezuela
seen from Malaysia
seen from Japan
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
@justanteenagedirtbag
James Joyce, from a letter to Nora Barnacle Joyce, featured in The Selected Letters of James Joyce
— Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks 1964-1980 (via lunamonchtuna)
— Melissa Cox
flat babbit <3
Loyalty (1869)
— by Briton Rivière
“He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.” ― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated
I’ll try to suffer better
what doesn't kill you makes you weird at intimacy
Loving you left visible invisible streaks across my heart. Like the marks of a river, of a life that once flowed and now has shrivelled away.
- Evenlis
I’m not someone who gives up, but there are games that no longer deserve my effort.
“Embroidered Snowy Steps” ❋ The only footprints that won’t melt
my love language is telling you to go look at the moon.