persevere.

Vata body. Pitta mind.

[haleyincarnate]

Trust that the universe has a better plan for you.

[boohwanj-deactivated20240316-de]

2021-09-04

Canon EOS R6 + RF15-35mm f2.8L IS

Instagram  |  hwantastic79vivid

[teapartyinthegardenofdelirium]

Beautiful Old Italian Greenhouse Overgrown With Vegetation

📍Italy

📷 from @ksenia_hound

[boohwanj-deactivated20240316-de]

2021-10-03

Canon EOS R6 + RF15-35mm f2.8L IS

Instagram  |  hwantastic79vivid

[joncorrod]

[fuckyoubaker]

[thunderstruck9]

Keith Haring (American, 1958-1990), Subway drawing. White chalk on black paper from New York billboard, 113 x 76 cm.

[monsterjitt]

bitch

lol

[hall-mark]

[heartsuffix-blog]

[darkfuse]

[ntoumani-blog]

[veloure]

[screamingin2thevoid63-deactivat]

Tonight, I babysat a little boy named Marley. Marley is a very smart, energetic two year old. He loves to dance and sing and is just overall a very happy child. After I finished dishes, Marley came up to me and pointed at my self-harm scars. “Boo boo?” He asked, frowning. That was the first time I’d ever seen him so distressed. I kneeled beside him, taken aback by his noticing. All I said was, “It’s a sad boo boo.” Marley signaled for me to wait there. He came back and put a bandaid on my arm and then proceeded to kiss it. He told me it was a happy boo boo and it would be all better. I love this little boy to death and this was the only time I have ever seen him look so frustrated. When I thanked him, he just grinned and pulled me back to play games, every so often asking if my boo boo was still happy.

[really-shit]

Invasive Species by Dillon Marsh

In 1996 a palm tree appeared almost overnight in a suburb of Cape Town. This was the world’s first ever disguised cell phone tower.

Since then, these trees have spread across the city, South Africa and the rest of the world. Invasive Species explores the relationship between the environment and the disguised towers of Cape Town and its surroundings.

[kylejthompson]

[notbecauseofvictories]

kylejthompson:

Untitled legs series by Kyle Thompson

Once upon a time, there were three siblings.

The eldest, a son, was a saint. The holy fire lit him from within, burned him to an ashen shell. He wandered across ice, through water, his twisted and scorched feet barely touching the ground, trailing steam. Where he walked, the world emptied of color, and his grey-eyed followers went on behind him.

The second child, a daughter, was a martyr. For God, she wound her legs with barbed wire and walked the earth, filled and vacated by the wind, eyes burned unseeing blue. Where she bled, the ground grew green and fertile. Her bones were picked apart by birds, and a cathedral built over them.

The youngest child was a writer. She wore Doc Martins and wandered around in an omnipresent haze of cigarette smoke. She liked vodka, words like quaintrelle and metanoia, Russian novels. At night, she stood on her balcony and screamed obscenities to a God she did not believe in.

(God came to her in the grey dawnlight, whispered, we do not buy our own innocence. She did not remember it, upon waking.)

[kendryjaser]

[monsterjitt]

wow this is old.