somewhere between the locusts and the honey

Held in a lunar synthesis, Whispering lunar incantations.

[mandymovie]

David Lynch (January 20, 1946 – January 16, 2025) RIP 🤍

[hauntedbystorytelling]

Bruce McLean :: Tea on the Knee, 1971

[jaguar]

Robin Isely, Hans Memling. Man of Sorrows c.1480.

[thegreatinthesmall-deactivated2]

autoportrait du couple au miroir. Vers 1930

[oh-oh-zo]

The serpent of my heart has shed its skin. I peer at it between my fingers, It’s crammed with hurt and honey. Where is all that thinking that hid in your folds? It’s just cheap wrapping that has oppressed a brilliant inner-star. Maybe I should place you on the high tips of the pine tree, so you can know of the songs the nightingale gives to the dawn. lorca

[thinkingimages]

Paul Coze, “Étude de chevelure” ca. 1950

[lifeinpoetry]

Suppose there is an end to our suffering. Like a chariot, the absence of grief circles us with the obstinate heat of the largest star. To believe in the radiant orbit of this fire. To face an empty cup and find the constellated mire of you and me and the toppling of a century. We rise from the painful corridors of a life.

— Muriel Leung, from “When I Imagine All the Possibilities of the Swarm,” Imagine Us, The Swarm

[43nils]

Ismo Hölttö Skibotn, Norway 1967.

[distantvoices]

Paloma Elsesser By Chris Colls For Vogue Poland March 2021

[shiva-mizani]

[joeinct]

Photo by Edna Bullock

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Occasionally I think of death. I can easily believe in the disintegration of the body, but cannot believe that all I have learned, experienced, accumulated, can disappear and be wasted. Like a river, it must flow somewhere. There must be continuity.

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 5: 1947-1955 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[pamelalove]

Alfred Stieglitz - Georgia O’Keeffe Hands and Horse Skull 1931

[gabbigolightly-deactivated20160]

Photographed by Michael Donovan

[nate-walton-deactivated20200924]

[greuze]

[panrhema-deactivated20150811]

greuze:

Vlaho Bukovac, Andromeda (Detail), 19th/20th Century

[angelbabyscum]

“Men dream of women. Women dream of themselves being dreamt of. Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at. Women constantly meet glances which act like mirrors reminding them of how they look or how they should look. Behind every glance is a judgment. Sometimes the glance they meet is their own, reflected back from a real mirror […] She is almost continually accompanied by her own image of herself. Whilst she is walking across a room or whilst she is weeping at the death of her father, she can scarcely avoid envisaging herself walking or weeping. From earliest childhood she has been taught and persuaded to survey herself continually. She has to survey everything she is and everything she does because how she appears to others and in particular how she appears to men is of crucial importance for what is normally thought of as the success of her life.”

— John Berger, Ways of Seeing (1972)