Moscow at night. Photo by Mikhail Grachyov (1930s-1940s).

No title available
Three Goblin Art
taylor price
Misplaced Lens Cap
Show & Tell
One Nice Bug Per Day
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
No title available

blake kathryn
hello vonnie
Claire Keane

Love Begins
h
wallacepolsom
No title available
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

roma★
ojovivo
trying on a metaphor
Monterey Bay Aquarium
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany

seen from Indonesia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany

seen from Singapore

seen from Netherlands

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Poland

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Norway

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from Bosnia & Herzegovina
@petitmatou
Moscow at night. Photo by Mikhail Grachyov (1930s-1940s).
Follow the evil to its root. Confront the wound; look at it—put your finger on it.
COLETTE PEIGNOT — Laure: The Collected Writings, transl. Jeanine Herman, (1995)
"I still have moments where the past washes over me and I sink below the surface. Sometimes the tides are too strong and I am watered down to nothing. But we are survivors. We are resilient. You can't control someone who loves themselves, who owns themselves. They've conditioned us to make sure we don't know that. I've spent so long trying to find love in other people - the kind of love that was made for me. The kind of love that brings me home. Nobody told me that it was inside me. That I could give it to myself."
- Vera Loxart
the beauty of fetish - steve diet goedde (1998)
Neruda’s writing space in Chile, from Pablo Neruda Absence and Presence by Alastair Reid.
Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus, originally published: 1977
The Spider (1992) dir. Vasili Mass
Eroticism is one of the basic means of self-knowledge, as indispensable as poetry.
Anaïs Nin, from In Favor of the Sensitive Man: Essays
Clothilde Bertin Lalande Human Experimentation
“A wild longing for strong emotions and sensations seethes in me, a rage against this toneless, flat, normal and sterile life.”
— Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf (via lonehands)