the voices the voices

speculative reality (succumbed to the delusions)

[xanaxfarts]

Hyperspace: ‘Our Final Frontier’ (2001)

[zegalba]

A mysterious spiral in the sky over Alaska spotted by aurora borealis watchers last week (2023)

[delicate-solitude]

[spyder-on-the-wall]

🕷️Joaine🕷️

[melowoof]

[normal-horoscopes]

I think I've found my favorite [citation needed] on Wikipedia.

[texture32]

Do you feel the same.. textures of meanings, lost for names or words.. peeling layers back to the core and essence of euphoria within… love.. the feeling behind the thought of your intention to feel.. feeling the texture of your own

Maybe someday we will know eachother as such.. stripped of words and names.. only knowing, feeling alone.. feeling home in eachothers mind.. ill watch you sleep, as one.

[wiki-but-made-them-up]

[an-ode-to-saint-valentine]

Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975)

[psikonauti]

James Jean (Taiwanese-American,b.1979)

Contact, 2022

Acrylic on linen

[hideback]

Horoscope, Ancient Iran, by Imad al-Din Mahmud al-Kashi

Showing the positions of the heavens at the moment of Prince Iskandar’s birth on April 25, 1384

[90377]

Untitled by K MORII

[ruins-mourner]

Currently crying over the melancholy beauty that of all of our languages spoken now, not a single one existed when our deepest ancestors started painting in caves, telling stories to their kith and kin, sculpting statues, and learning to cook and farm

Not a single one of them could speak with us if they were here now, and vice versa, yet everything they worked for and lived for still lives on and stands within each and every one of us

And still, some echo of the words they spoke to one another, the words cried out to their gods and the universe and their own ancestors, is alive in every language we speak today, and so many lost to time

When I think about the essence of humanity, it is this, in the purest form of who we were, who we are, and who we yet can be

[superegoisms-deactivated2023100]

[symbolism-art-history]

Dame Autumn has a mournful face by John Atkinson Grimshaw (1836 - 1893)

[aliceinmadnessland]

What if we pushed our fingers into each other's wounds?

[theegoist]

Robert Delaunay (French, 1885–1941) - Rythme circulaire, oil on canvas, 254 x 301 cm (1937)