a habit of Martianness

It is a little known fact that every solar system contains Mars. Not Mars itself, of course. But certain suns seem to possess what we might call a habit of Martianness: In every inhabited system so far identified, there is a red planet, usually near enough to the most populous world if not as closely adjacent as our own twinkling scarlet beacon, with proximate lengths of day and night. Even more curious, these planets are without fail named for war-divinities.

[midnightmurdershow]

Planet Earth II (2016) Episode 05 “Grasslands” Directed by Chadden Hunter

[thunderstruck9]

Andrew Wyeth (American, 1917-2009), In the Orchard, 1972. Watercolor and pencil on paper, 19 ¾ x 29 ¾ in.

[emobanana22]

Being not a teenager on this app feels exactly like this fr

[aperiodofsoftness]

Charlotte Lapalus

[northseasiren-deactivated202601]

september by the sea

[stxphxnxangxl-deactivated202506]

[kacper-kiec]

Engulfing Silence

[your-girl-is-lovely]

"He imagined the sky dissolving to reveal the hard vault of stars, the galaxy turning above him like a cog in a vast, unknowable engine. And behind it all, the emptiness into which men cast their prayers. It occurred to him that he could leave now, walk out into the long twilight and keep going until the earth opened beneath him and he found himself descending strange stairs, while the world around him broke silently into snow, and into night."

- Nathan Ballingrud, North American Lake Monsters: Stories

[birdasaurus]

Locust Floral

[leahberman]

tree foam green

instagram - twitter - website

[everythingfox]

Sleeping fox

(via)

[littlelarajean]

Sun goddess ☀️

[themakeupbrush]

Joanne Burke Windowpane Oyster Dress

[janeaustentextposts]

[simkaye]

Sharp tongue

[crows-before-bros]

NO #2

[alchemisedsenlinyu]

“The white light splutters and pours. Carnations; chrysanthemums. Ivy in dark gardens. Wherever I go, I see you, turning the corner, you, you, you. I hasten, I follow. This, I fancy, must be the sea. Grey is the landscape; dim as ashes; the water murmurs and moves. If I fall on my knees, if I go through the ritual, the ancient antics, it’s you I adore; if I open my arms, it’s you I embrace, you I draw to me—”

— Virginia Woolf, from Complete Works; “An Unwritten Novel,” (via sainterly)