‘Scrolls of Frolicking Animals’ (Chōjū-jinbutsu-giga) from the Kōzan-ji temple in Kyoto, 12th/13th century.
Animated by Studio Ghibli in 2016 ✏️
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
almost home

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Show & Tell

#extradirty
Sade Olutola
occasionally subtle
todays bird

Janaina Medeiros

@theartofmadeline
dirt enthusiast
Stranger Things
Three Goblin Art
Claire Keane
Not today Justin
RMH
hello vonnie
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

titsay
Mike Driver

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seen from Germany
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@liminalfox
‘Scrolls of Frolicking Animals’ (Chōjū-jinbutsu-giga) from the Kōzan-ji temple in Kyoto, 12th/13th century.
Animated by Studio Ghibli in 2016 ✏️
furthest we've ever been
The binturong of hope
kinda wish i had the actor's temperament so i could slip on the identities of various fictional people whenever being me gets too much or just kind of boring and be paid for it
Try Maladaptive Daydreaming today! For a neat zero-zero-nothing, you too can switch into different realities whenever you like!
Risks and side effects might apply. Consult your local cPTSD deviant or autistic person before applying.
Hans Panschar
There’s a county in Yunnan built entirely on a mountaintop. It’s spring-like all year round, and its name is Lüchun绿春, literally meaning “evergreen spring”.
Still Life with Mask, Manticore, and Mountain by Yaroslav Gerzhedovich (c. 2011)
The Winter by Vladimir-Kireev
Laura Benson (American, 1997) - The Everywhere Gate (n.d.)
Dame Patricia Routledge (17 February 1929 – 3 October 2025)
One month before her 95th birthday, Patricia Routledge wrote something that still gently echoes:
“I’ll be turning 95 this coming Monday. In my younger years, I was often filled with worry — worry that I wasn’t quite good enough, that no one would cast me again, that I wouldn’t live up to my mother’s hopes. But these days begin in peace, and end in gratitude….
My life didn’t quite take shape until my forties. I had worked steadily — on provincial stages, in radio plays, in West End productions — but I often felt adrift, as though I was searching for a home within myself that I hadn’t quite found….
At 50, I accepted a television role that many would later associate me with — Hyacinth Bucket, of Keeping Up Appearances. I thought it would be a small part in a little series. I never imagined that it would take me into people’s living rooms and hearts around the world. And truthfully, that role taught me to accept my own quirks. It healed something in me.
At 60, I began learning Italian — not for work, but so I could sing opera in its native language. I also learned how to live alone without feeling lonely. I read poetry aloud each evening, not to perfect my diction, but to quiet my soul.
At 70, I returned to the Shakespearean stage — something I once believed I had aged out of. But this time, I had nothing to prove. I stood on those boards with stillness, and audiences felt that. I was no longer performing. I was simply being.
At 80, I took up watercolor painting. I painted flowers from my garden, old hats from my youth, and faces I remembered from the London Underground. Each painting was a quiet memory made visible.
Now, at 95, I write letters by hand. I’m learning to bake rye bread. I still breathe deeply every morning. I still adore laughter — though I no longer try to make anyone laugh. I love the quiet more than ever.
I’m writing this to tell you something simple:
Growing older is not the closing act. It can be the most exquisite chapter — if you let yourself bloom again.**
Let these years ahead be your *treasure years*.
You don’t need to be famous. You don’t need to be flawless.
You only need to show up — fully — for the life that is still yours.
With love and gentleness”
Patricia Routledge died today 3rd October 2025
Rest In Peace
A comic for the end of summer 🍃🍂
The full, original version of this comic is available here on my Patreon $4 tier :) tinyurl.com/yyymsx2n
"If rest becomes a form of recovery from work, as is the case today, it loses its specific ontological value. It no longer represents an independent, higher form of existence and degenerates into a derivative of work. Today's compulsion of production perpetuates work and thus eliminates that sacred silence. Life becomes entirely profane, desecrated."
—Han Byung-Chul, The Disappearance of Rituals
ROBERT WUN Couture Fall/Winter 2026 if you want to support this blog consider donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways
There's a book that we had in our house growing up that I was obsessed with as a kid. It was just called "PAKISTAN: PAINTINGS BY LIN YONG AND SU HUA" and it was an art book of 100+ paintings/sketches by two Chinese artists who travelled thru Pakistan in 1978 and 1981, a sort of travelogue of their trip, and to little-kid me, it was some of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. I have no idea why we had that book, but I would stare at it for hours, and it made me wish I could draw/paint/do whatever it was that these artists had managed to do.
Anyway, we've moved house a bunch of times and I lost track of the book and haven't seen it for probably two decades now. But I think about it now and again, and had struggled to find it over the years, but I finally, finally got my hands on a copy of my own and i want to cry haha
I was afraid that maybe the art isn't as good as I remembered, being just a kid and all, but I cracked it open and nope, it hits me just the way it used to. Maybe even more now. It's so fucking pretty. Have some random pages:
Garden Party
by Vicky Sawyers