
shark vs the universe
we're not kids anymore.
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Stranger Things

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
tumblr dot com
Mike Driver

JVL
🪼
almost home

roma★

No title available

Origami Around
Monterey Bay Aquarium

★
Today's Document
dirt enthusiast
Cosimo Galluzzi
wallacepolsom
Keni

seen from Malaysia

seen from Peru

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from India

seen from Malaysia
@madequeer
“Empires like dollars just change hands”#godmademequeer
“Still small voice” #godmademequeer
BC says he has been talking to people.
He takes several little pills a day.
The blue ones give him energy, it's a study.
The other blue ones are suppose to make him happy.
The white ones affect the protease inhibitors and keep his viral load at bay and his t-cells up and running.
I tell BC me too.
He asks how long and when, but never who or how.
I ask how long and when, but never who or how.
I: Almost collisions make life worth living.
Ze: I’m so mad I sat on the inside
I: Why?
Ze: My face came so close to the buildings. I thought I would collide
excerpt
The art of learning to love yourself by slamming up against a brick wall of those who don’t love you, who don’t know how to love you, but willingly exploit you. Strangers who tell you to trust them. I want to trust the stranger, with my body, with my feelings, with my life.
He makes transience not seem that bad --maybe because he knows magic or connection, honesty, God or whatever it is that makes people kind and creative. The still small voice.
We sit together at the front of the double decker bus, feet sometimes touching the panoramic glass walled before us. The concrete buildings, and the concrete walls of i-95 in New England running backwards as we move forward. His pale hands rapidly winding themselves around two needles, knitting fabric. I fall asleep somewhere after taking pictures of his dexterous hands, and a series of out-of-focused streetlights in the rain.