guys what if they kill me at work today
RMH

ellievsbear

No title available
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
almost home

oozey mess
🪼
One Nice Bug Per Day

#extradirty
wallacepolsom
Misplaced Lens Cap
Xuebing Du
No title available

No title available
taylor price
todays bird
h
$LAYYYTER
No title available

Product Placement
seen from Romania
seen from Kuwait

seen from Türkiye
seen from Paraguay

seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from New Zealand

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
@parabins
guys what if they kill me at work today
"i do not dream of labour" is one of the worst pseudo-marxist taglines that western leftists have co-opted because when you ask them what they do dream of, they say traveling, studying, and creating art. broski, who's flying the plane to take you to prague? who's the security at the library with the texts you're studying? who are the clerks in the museum showcasing your art? like bro, you do dream of labour. you just dream of someone else doing it so you don't have to! you merely want to outsource the labour and make it invisible.
francesca woodman
untitled (self-portrait with chair), 1977-78
Feels like I’ve lived so many lives & im still in my 20s.
Screencaps from Kiki’s Delivery Service
vampirism as a metaphor for queerness. hunger as a metaphor for repressed desire. immortality as an expression of profound loneliness.
Today Israel killed beloved journalist Anas al-Sharif. May he be the light of Revolution.
this is the moment he read his family name amongst the martyrs on live tv and kept doing his job :'(
Every day of August I feel like this
i do believe on some level that real love is ugly. i think we’ve convinced ourselves otherwise by ingesting highly filtered staged moments of other people’s relationships and telling ourselves that maybe we are too ugly for love. but real love — it’s waking up in the dead of morning with dried drool on your face, it’s bleeding in a bed that isn’t yours, it’s having a panic attack in the park and not knowing how to verbalize what you’re feeling, it’s not shaving + not apologizing, it’s crying because you need something you cannot name + much more — all while being held.
You deserve to think highly of yourself.
Can you please just have an ounce of shrimpathy?
isolation the most goated coping mechanism i love talking to no one and losing my mind alone
T is basically the last great letter before the alphabet completely goes off the rails