Today's Document
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
No title available
noise dept.
RMH
🪼

oozey mess
Xuebing Du
Misplaced Lens Cap

izzy's playlists!
sheepfilms
cherry valley forever
Three Goblin Art
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Stranger Things

pixel skylines

JVL

#extradirty
Claire Keane

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@novelpremise
Provided to YouTube by Merge Media LtdAs Night Is Falling · The ClienteleSuburban Light (Remastered)℗ 2014 Merge RecordsReleased on: 2000-11-28Main Artist: ...
Provided to YouTube by BWSCD IncCome Back · Sharon Van EttenWe've Been Going About This All Wrong℗ 2022 JagjaguwarReleased on: 2022-05-06Main Artist: Sharon...
Slowly building towards the climax of the album. Love. I do not own this music.
Sibylle Baier - Forget About
what a beautiful future
Literature does its best to maintain that its concern is with the mind; that the body is a sheet of plain glass through which the soul looks straight and clear, and, save for one or two passions such as desire and greed, is null, and negligible and non-existent. On the contrary, the very opposite is true. All day, all night, the body intervenes; blunts or sharpens, colours or discolours, turns to wax in the warmth of June, hardens to tallow in the murk of February. The creature within can only gaze through the pane - smudged or rosy; it cannot separate off from the body like the sheath of a knife or the pod of a pea for a single instant; it must go through the whole unending process of changes, heat and cold, comfort and discomfort, hunger and satisfaction, health and illness, until there comes the inevitable catastrophe; the body smashes itself to smithereens, and the soul (it is said) escapes. But of this daily drama of the body there is no record.
Virginia Woolf, “On Being Ill” (via chthonic-cassandra)
Honestly a huge shoutout to everyone who had to stop doing what they love.
Shoutout to people who had to stop playing music and drawing because of arthritis.
Shoutout to people who loved to go hiking but can’t because of chronic fatigue.
Shoutout to everybody who’s ever had their health steal something they loved from them. Yall are so beautiful and worthwhile and I love you.
On this Night, in this World
i speak knowing it isn’t about that it’s never about that, oh, help me write the most dispensable poem that can’t even be used to be useless help me write words on this night in this world Alejandra Pizarnik
Why does memory feel like a place?