olivia locher, the sun in my mouth (2013)
Mike Driver
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

JVL
Misplaced Lens Cap

pixel skylines
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

#extradirty
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
d e v o n

Origami Around

No title available
NASA
EXPECTATIONS
Cosmic Funnies

Andulka

blake kathryn
cherry valley forever
🪼

Product Placement

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
seen from Saudi Arabia

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

seen from United States

seen from Morocco
seen from Germany

seen from Singapore
seen from United States

seen from Sweden

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from Finland

seen from China

seen from Ukraine

seen from Malaysia
@pittedpeach
olivia locher, the sun in my mouth (2013)
Der Arbeiter
2013
K.KArd
The years came in which I was once again forced to discover that a primordial urge dwelt within me myself, an urge that had to crawl away and hide from the bright, permissible world. As it happens to everyone, I too was attacked by the gradually awakening perception of sex as an enemy and destroyer, as something forbidden, as seduction and sin. What my curiosity sought, what caused me dreams, pleasure, and anxiety, the great mystery of puberty, just didn’t fit into the sheltered happiness of my childlike peace. I did what everyone does. I led the double life of a child who really isn’t a child anymore. My conscious dwelt in the familiar, permissible world, my conscious denied the existence of the new world that was dawning. But at the same time I was living in dreams, urges, and wishes of a subterranean kind, over which that conscious life built more and more anxious bridges, because my child’s world was collapsing within me.
Herman Hesse, Demian
The Last Supper, Brad Birchett
think of me in the evenings when no words remain the way carcasses are a forest fires only left-behinds
Rebajas de verano de El Corte Inglés.
Give me a world, you have taken the world I was.
Tag, Anne Carson
I want to forget that my body is borrowed from dirt.
Holy, Holy Whomever, C. Dylan Bassett