Dishtrophy.
Marker, poster paint and silver foil.
ojovivo
sheepfilms
Sweet Seals For You, Always
$LAYYYTER
No title available
Cosimo Galluzzi
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
almost home
The Stonewall Inn
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
todays bird

ellievsbear
noise dept.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

gracie abrams
No title available
Color Me Curious
Doug Jones
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Xuebing Du

seen from United Kingdom
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seen from United States
seen from Venezuela

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Mexico

seen from Armenia
seen from Vietnam

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
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@keyuritatu
Dishtrophy.
Marker, poster paint and silver foil.
A very very happy birthday to my darling friend, Niv.
My father often talked with fanatic admiration about Abida and her musical prowess, her deep passionate voice resonating oblivious to all material. Never did I imagine that I would one day come to feel the same love towards her. I haven’t heard her much, but of what I have, I feel a mixture of astonishment and deep reverence. When i think of her singing, I can imagine her performing in isolation, in isolation from all but one. I can perceive a column of energy and devotion emerging from her body, rising above and ending in the lap of that one entity with whom she seeks an audience. Her indifference towards everything else and her immersion in a trance, only addressing that one entity, makes her appearance permeable to give you a clear view of her bright heart, the origin of that powerful, appealing voice.
She is a seeker. She is a lover. She is a storm. She is Abida. One who worships.
Charcoal and Ink.
Bougainvillea.
When she chose the Bougainvillea twig yesterday, it was bright.
It was coloured, brilliant. She hung on to it with belonging and hope.
Today, now it’s dry, withering and brown. Fading into it’s death.
But she hangs on to its last colours, it’s last traces of life.
Maybe it’s final stop is where it plants her to grow.
Insignificant times.
The words that you read make you see things. This is one of the scenes from the book Not Without My Daughter that lives with me. #notwithoutmydaughter
Lifestory :/
Fly away stupid polka dot man :)
The ajji I live with in this monster city.
Fatboy tries hard to shine like he can, Fatboy has a flare like has no other man. Fatboy knows to deal with his hard share, Fatboy is happy because he doesn't care.
How she transforms an entire audience changing absolutely nothing about herself. Her voice is silk.
Be happy with your eyes closed and you won't blink again at the sight of sorrow.
A place to hide. A place to find.