Monterey Bay Aquarium
will byers stan first human second
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
NASA
Kiana Khansmith
Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
cherry valley forever
Stranger Things
pixel skylines
Claire Keane
oozey mess
⁂
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
hello vonnie
Cosimo Galluzzi
Xuebing Du
occasionally subtle
Cosmic Funnies
Kaledo Art
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Pakistan
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Russia
seen from Germany
@lilac-romantic
Hi it's me, been a while- I’ve realized what an unhealthy, distorted view I have of myself and I’m really trying to fix it. God damnit. I promise it has gotten much better, I’m always growing and learning, but how far away is the horizon? How far away is healthy and confident?
Cusco, Peru
February 2018
instagram: @juliana_johnson
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Often my favorite places are the in-between ones, not the obvious choices; the neither here-nor-there’s. This was taken in a small Peruvian town after the most grueling of grueling hikes (at a very high altitude and partially in hail) – I was exhausted, felt awful, and soaking wet (fingers going purple, the works). And there was this quiet moment after lunch in someone’s backyard with baby lambs & nothing but the sound of the prettiest birds chirping and low, pleasant conversation. The sun broke through and warmed us up, and I found myself experiencing one of my favorite moments of this trip – the quiet among the bustle of planes, trains, buses, hikes, taxis, and everything else.
Source
Source
“Let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Sensible Thing (via sarahs-delights)
My mother tells me that when I meet someone I like, I have to ask them three questions: 1. what are you afraid of? 2. do you like dogs? 3. what do you do when it rains? of those three, she says the first one is the most important. “They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.” I met you on a Sunday, right after church. one look and my heart fell into my stomach like a trap door. on our second date, I asked you what you were afraid of. “spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.” I asked you if you liked dogs. “I have three.” I asked you what you do when it rains. “sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.” he smiled like he knew. like his mom told him the same thing. “how about you?” me? I’m scared of everything. of the hole in the o-zone layer, of the lady next door who never smiles at her dog, and especially of all the secrets the government must be breaking it’s back trying to keep from us. I love dogs so much, you have no idea. I sleep when it rains. I want to tell everyone I love them. I want to find every stray animal and bring them home. I want to wake up in your hair and make you shitty coffee and kiss your neck and draw silly stick figures of us. I never want to ask anyone else these questions ever again.
Caitlyn Siehl, “Three Questions” (via oofpoetry)
Izziyana Suhaimi
You are poetry, Please treat yourself as such. I know that their is luxury in safety, In sanctuary and retreat. I understand that there is comfort in the mundane and prosaic, But hear me when I say that you are a song waiting to be sung, Hundreds of notes suspended, ready to leap with wreckless abandon, ready to fall wherever they may, You are music. Every cell in your body is poised with potential, Deaf to the call of calamity. There is a you made up of a million colors and words and melodies, Intrepid, veracious, bold. You are meant for so much more than predictable certainty. Give in to ambition, desire, passion. You were meant to explore. We have been shaped into creatures of habit, Our nature forgotten through trial and time. Give yourself space, Breath in the ocean air, The open air, The life and light of all the have and will be, You are part of the world. Hear me. You are poetry. Essential, Pure. Born to fly.
I wrote this and meant to edit it, but now it feels right.
Me ft. This plant
