The bedroom of an English teacher.
hello vonnie

shark vs the universe

@theartofmadeline
Not today Justin
cherry valley forever
taylor price
Misplaced Lens Cap

ellievsbear

No title available

#extradirty
KIROKAZE
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
occasionally subtle
Color Me Curious

tannertan36
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

roma★
untitled
noise dept.
seen from Venezuela
seen from Türkiye
seen from Russia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Sweden
seen from Morocco

seen from Pakistan

seen from Kenya

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Australia
seen from Kyrgyzstan
seen from Colombia

seen from Australia
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Nicaragua

seen from France
seen from Venezuela
seen from Morocco

seen from Philippines
seen from Thailand
@noraawrites
The bedroom of an English teacher.
✧ HISTORICAL ERAS AS PEOPLE ✧
MEDIEVAL ☆ tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening the bustle of the city. unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.
RENAISSANCE ☆ freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your socks on.
BAROQUE ☆ dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colorless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.
CLASSICAL ☆ chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.
ROMANTIC ☆ compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.
Wine isn’t strong enough. It’s blood I want.
Henry Miller; A Literate Passion, the Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller
i think the funniest and realist thing i’ve realized lately is how troubling idealization can be. every person is just… a person. the very people you want to impress or be apart of are just people. even if they seem wildly intimidating because of the way they look or because of their reputation, every one is just a person. human. as embarrassing, as remorseful and they are going through stages of growth just like you are. we only see what we want to see and then drown ourselves further in our own depression and we don’t have to.
listen i might be drunk but im right. art & literature & nature & music make life worth living. people who look like they were ripped out of a caravaggio painting make life worth living. go organize a bacchanal in the woods. take pics of your lover in your hotel room in venice. who cares if there’s a void in your soul. who cares if you can’t get attached to anyone. neither can michelangelo’s david.
If one can laugh without finding what was said humorous, and speak sweetly in front of you but spill poison from the tongue behind you, then surely one can say “I love you” in a way that is not loving.
Gillian Murphy and Ethan Stiefel of American Ballet Theater in an ad for Swan Lake 2006
wow…
Emil Loteanu’s Anna Pavlova [1983].
“She will follow you to the end of the world, Athos, if she recognizes you.”
— Alexandre Dumas, The Three Musketeers
Alfred Noyes, from The Collected Poems; “At Dawn,” written c. May 1947