art destroys silence

violinist / dark academia / donna tartt novels // i follow from eleven-brilliant-colors

[mityashostakovich]

imagine cocteau twins karaoke night

[mityashostakovich]

the secret history in a nutshell

[mityashostakovich]

lucius has a really nice printer

[mityashostakovich]

I saw the trees today, still strung with lights from Christmastime, though it’s nearing the end of February now. They were off, of course, it being the sunny early afternoon that seems to attract swarms of people like flies out of nowhere. The sunlight caught the edges of the glass bulbs, empty themselves of illumination, but reflecting the light of that greater power, sparkling and sparkling so that for all the world they could have been lit up from within. They were just as beautiful as they were at night, reminding me of the time when I saw clouds of fireflies floating in a field, hovering against a dark backdrop of trees that contrasted them perfectly, making them appear like thousands of glittering fairy lights strung up by people getting ready for the holiday, though these were so much greater, being strung up by Mother Nature herself. And while the glittering glassy bulbs I saw today didn’t have the same raw beauty that those fireflies possessed without even trying, they still had the same ethereal quality of magnificence that compels you to stop and stare. Soon the lights will come down and the bare branches of the trees will stare down at passers-by, grim and aloof, until the green leaves and flower buds appear to quell the mystique and invite wonder anew.

[wholeheartedsuggestions]

eventually you realize you don’t want to die. you just don’t want to live the life you’re living. and slowly you try to create a life you want to live. just gotta start there.

[wholeheartedsuggestions]

no one needs to add “sounds fake but ok”, “no”, “well, not me”, “impossible”, etc. to this post. and i’d rather you not.

[duckbunny]

one day you think: I want to die.

and then you think, very quietly: actually. actually. I think I want a coffee. a nap. a sandwich. a book.

and I want to die turns day by day into I want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friend, I want to sit in the sun

I want a cleaner kitchen

I want a better job

I want to live somewhere else

I want to live

[mityashostakovich]

Do I get to

help the weary

sick abandoned

full of woe if

I make but one

soul brighter with

gleaming light of

evening sunshine

Will my plight be

ever lifted

will my fight be

ever won?

[mityashostakovich]

thinking about the elaborate cat cemetery in the back garden of francis’s house

[mityashostakovich]

be the reason the rules have to be made

[mityashostakovich]

tarot cards are one of my favorite art forms

[mityashostakovich]

The moon is soft and orange tonight. The color of an old friend.

[brainrot-time]

why is nobody talking about the fact that Theo's heart (the golfinch) was stolen from him and he didn't even know for eight years, while Boris knowingly and willingly let Theo take his heart (popckyk) to New York with him??????

[mityashostakovich]

“The dead appear to us in dreams because that’s the only way they can make us see them; what we see is only a projection, beamed from a great distance, light shining at us from a dead star.”

[bitterbloodrose]

classics students will be like “i know a spot” and then take you to the top of a cliff to admire ferns

[vicvaal]

Last night I had a dream in which Theo and Pippa were in like, central park or someplace like that, and it was autumn so everything was in these beautiful different shades of orange (maybe this was because it’s autumn where I live rn) and they were sitting on the grass by this lake and they were chatting kind of arguing and Pippa made Theo realize he was in love with Boris. And Theo just laid there in the grass and started crying and had to take his glasses off because it was the first time he actually faced those feelings in front of anyone and he was so insecure of himself and who he was and Pippa just hugged him.

*sips tea* Anyways, just a man and a woman being supportive friends and nothing else, crazy shit, right?

How’s the fandom doing? Still dead?

[mityashostakovich]

“Certainly I would be less frightened of death…if I thought a familiar person came to meet us at the door.”

[mityashostakovich]

“Are you going to let me in?” said Boris, “or shall we stand here tenderly and gaze?”

[mityashostakovich]

oh to be a luthier’s apprentice in baroque italy in 1714. the plane and file, glimmer of light through the workshop windows mirroring that of the sun peeking through the holes in the instruments, revealing a not-so-secret wooden world within, sawdust and purfling lining the edges of tables, dusty yet cared-for back plates lining the walls. that would be a life indeed