[stlowens]

Marina Tsvetaeva, tr. by Ilya Kaminsky, from “To Kiss a Forehead.”

[heavensghost]

Olivia Gatwood, from Life of the party

[heavensghost]

Morgan Nikola-Wren

[garlands-jpn-deactivated2025022]

comme des garçons (1990)

[b4rfbrain]

aphex twin i love NY graphic tee merch

[primulaceas]

Audre Lorde, "Digging." The Black Unicorn

[fashion-beepbeep]

hussein chalayan fw99 atmosphere

[nearlya]

Cy Twombly. Pan II, 1980, mixed media | Untitled, 1982, mixed media

[weltenwellen]

Ada Limón, from “Lover”, The Hurting Kind

[annaxmalina]

made myself a fake Brakhage; thanks midjourney

[crumbargento]

Beyond Love and Evil - Jacques Scandelari  - 1969 (1971?) - France

[metamorphesque]

tenderness is in the hands

Keep reading

[suntara]

my favorite love language is trying, actually

[suntara]

like when people try to learn your hobbies or try to play the same sports that you play in an effort to get closer to you, people who try to love you the way you love people, people who will go to places you want to visit just for your sake, people remembering, putting in an effort. just. trying

[mityenka]

[metamorphesque]

— Moonless Night, Louise Glück

[text ID: But is waiting forever / always the answer?]

[jamesronkko]

[sk8m0ss]

Charlotte Kemp Muhl comforting a deer that got hit by a car.

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

August 6. This time, I am not mad. I have seen—I have seen—I have seen!—I can doubt no longer—I have seen it!

I was walking at two o'clock among my rose-trees, in the full sunlight—in the walk bordered by autumn roses which are beginning to fall. As I stopped to look at a Géant de Bataille, which had three splendid blooms, I distinctly saw the stalk of one of the roses bend close to me, as if an invisible hand had bent it, and then break, as if that hand had picked it! Then the flower raised itself, following the curve which a hand would have described in carrying it toward a mouth, and remained suspended in the transparent air, alone and motionless, a terrible red spot, three yards from my eyes. In desperation I rushed at it to take it! I found nothing; it had disappeared. Then I was seized with furious rage against myself, for it is not wholesome for a reasonable and serious man to have such hallucinations.

– Guy de Maupassant, from “The Horla,” The Best Stories of Guy de Maupassant (The Modern Library, 1945)