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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Stranger Things
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

shark vs the universe
Misplaced Lens Cap
Sweet Seals For You, Always
$LAYYYTER
No title available
we're not kids anymore.
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
taylor price
Sade Olutola

pixel skylines

titsay
No title available
ojovivo

Discoholic 🪩

JVL
almost home

seen from United States
seen from Egypt
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from Lithuania
seen from Japan
seen from United States

seen from Greece

seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Australia
seen from France
seen from Canada

seen from Singapore

seen from Egypt
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seen from United States
@naveenonpaper
Psst. Come check out my instagram!
https://www.instagram.com/naveenonpaper?igsh=YThmYnE1a2MzMXZm
Psst. Come check out my instagram!
https://www.instagram.com/naveenonpaper?igsh=YThmYnE1a2MzMXZm
https://www.instagram.com/naveenonpaper?igsh=YThmYnE1a2MzMXZm
Boar deities in India have strange origin stories attached to them. They are sometimes embedded with spiritual and social commentaries too!
A look into the fascinating stories behind anthropomorphic worship in India
Here's a fascinating account of the boar deities of India!
It was my understanding that a forever was written in my cards with you. Chiseled into stones old as time, mossed over with foliage, surviving many crusades. A prophecy. In the atmosphere I breathe, hyphal lace through peat, I heard whispers from beyond Eocene, where the universe hung like a drop of dew from a cosmic leaf. It was always meant to be.
First off, why did ALL the king's horses AND the king's men want to put Humpty Dumpty back together again?
What dirt did Humpty Dumpty have that made him so important?
Despite what the liberal media made you believe, Hympty Dumpty's fall was his own fault.
I am no eggs-pert but what were all the king's horses and king's men supposed to do with a scrambled egg?
Indian folktale warns about...
Hello Tumbler dwellers!
I had been on a mission to revive the Indian folktales that are on the verge of being forgotten.
Here is a story (link) that tells us how untold stories tend to take revenge on cowardly storytellers!
Analysis of an Indian folktale that warns us about how untold stories take revenge on cowardly storytellers.
Who knew that outlining a novel would take WEEKS because new ideas keep popping up and you just HAVE to alter the outline ever so slightly each time but now you can't sleep because your anamorphic muse whispers more details into your ears each night and you wake up wanting to redo the whole thing again, oncemore, endlessly, but this also gives you anxiety beacause you haven't actually written anything yet?
No? Just me? Ok.
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I could go on and on about how much I dislike social media presence as a writer. I don't quite feel comfortable to market myself or my work. I've recently realized - thanks to Threads - that a lot of writers share this feeling.
While I do not yet know how to deal with it, I want to say that putting myself out there had bought me in contact with so many good writers out there. I had now way of reading their works without being online.
There's pros as there are cons to this. And maybe one day I will learn to be at peace with it.
The cheapo cameras of the 90's - disposable, so to speak - captured a memory.
In a carnival, I tease my sister with a kiss. I don't go through with it. She would scream in rejection. Mouth wide open. An angry siren. At the time, only seven. She wouldn't live to see thirteen.
Whenever I come across the photo in albums, it fades a little. A deeper shade of brown saturates all colors. I hold it like burnt paper that crumbles. I make a promise. If I get a redo, this time around, I will complete my kiss. Say cheeeeeese. I'd have a wider grin to show.
Gotcha' sis. Please don't leave us.
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https://www.instagram.com/naveenonpaper?igsh=YThmYnE1a2MzMXZm
Bandits
The bandits who rob
coal coaches know how to
board a moving train.
It's a skill. I'm convinced.
To risk it all. In hopes of
some graphite.
I see the guilty hands
you've tucked behind.
My lost heart like
anthracite. I'd loan you
my life, like a loco pilot
who conspires.
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