Near the end of a transformation, the unavoidable grief of shedding an old, once-cherished identity seems to linger the longest out of all emotional modalities, but who would we be if we carried a trunk full of old skin?
Jules of Nature
$LAYYYTER
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
styofa doing anything
Mike Driver
Not today Justin
RMH
Today's Document
i don't do bad sauce passes
wallacepolsom
will byers stan first human second
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
AnasAbdin
Keni

Product Placement

shark vs the universe
Peter Solarz

seen from Russia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

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

seen from Australia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Russia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Switzerland

seen from United States
@plutosfallenangel
Near the end of a transformation, the unavoidable grief of shedding an old, once-cherished identity seems to linger the longest out of all emotional modalities, but who would we be if we carried a trunk full of old skin?
Das Blumenwunder (1926) Dir. Max Reichman
embarrassment has good bones
dude it's just politics, it doesn't matter. all it does is shape every single aspect of the society you live in from the second you are born until forever
ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to deny location sharing and turn off personalized ads and reject all non-essential cookies and not set up siri and face ID
The Legend of Rabenstein: Deserted (1877) - Samuel Read
the ability to sit down with another person and talk for hours about anything and everything is more attractive to me than anything else.
Underneath the drops of water cascading down rocks that rest upon my favorite shore, I sink deeper into the sand that bleeds into the ocean. The same colour that paints the sky.
Completely submerged in depths that don't breathe. Holding my breath slowly becomes unbearable, the swells rush me back to where I came from. Encapsulated in a moment, the calm underneath hides me. Fostering me from the surfaces hard strikes against the malleable tension. I no longer wish to return to what I once was. Embracing the feeling of waves that carry me further, until I rise again. Rising to cascade once more over my favorite shore, down onto the sand that bleeds into the ocean.
The same colour that paints the sky.
stop asking ai for advice and start asking bitches with tarot cards to read your future
Carrie Fountain, from Burn Lake; “Burn Lake 4”
fuck, marry, kill: the wound that won’t heal, the past you can’t undo, the ghost that keeps returning