Let the serpent sleep, Tapio Salmela
Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document

#extradirty
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$LAYYYTER

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we're not kids anymore.
noise dept.
Cosimo Galluzzi

⁂

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

pixel skylines

Discoholic 🪩
wallacepolsom
Three Goblin Art
todays bird
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies

Kaledo Art

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@moenich
Let the serpent sleep, Tapio Salmela
Intimacy Mod at Spas Setun, Moscow
You... you can’t just leave this perfect comment in the tags
I don't like the jiggle.
I love the jiggle
It Follows (2014) dir. David Robert Mitchell
In the late 19th and early 20th century, the Spiritualism movement was all the rage, and people sought out mediums to communicate with spirits.
One of the most famous mediums of the day was Marthe Beraud (also known as Eva C. and Eva Carrière). In this photo, taken in 1912, she demonstrates a “light manifestation” between her hands, and a strange materialization upon her head. She was debunked in 1922, much to the dismay of her supporter Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. (via)
Dr. Seuss, 1941
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Regendered Reading: Tank Girl and Postmodernist Intertextuality'
Documentation from Time Tunnel, InterAccess, 2011.
Noli me tangere
Back to the Future Part II
photos by Chris Cox
http://www.hmoenich.com/chimera
How to recognize a work of art? How to separate it, if even for a moment, from its critical apparatus, from its apologists, from its tireless imitators, from its belittlers, from its final lonely destiny? Easy: we must translate it. Let it be done by a bad translator. We must rip out pages at random. We must leave the translation abandoned in some attic somewhere. If after all of this a young reader appears and by reading it makes it theirs, and is faithful to it (or unfaithful, who cares) and reinterprets it and accompanies it throughout its journey to its own limits and they both enrich themselves and the young reader adds a pinch of worth to its natural worth, we are standing before something, a machine or a book, capable of speaking to every human being: not a beaten path but a mountain, not the image of the dark forest but the dark forest itself, not a flock of birds but the Nightingale.
Roberto Bolaño, Translation is an Anvil (via speak-mnemosyne)