@puppy-teef - Tumblr Blog

redkrypto-deactivated20211128

In the warmth of the sun

““Being born a woman is an awful tragedy… Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars - to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night…””

— Sylvia Plath

sundaesyrup1

The packaging on this lip balm is everything

jextaime

The fallen Angel Lucifer and the Moon on March 31 2020

radcybergoth

This is the only post I ever want to look at ever again

mentally-homeless

This person: *takes photo of moon surrounded by clouds* Ah yes, I know exactly which mid-19th century painting of a biblical winged nude beefcake this reminds me of

halcynth

“My husband, photographer Michael Nye, once photographed in a West Bank Palestinian refugee camp for days, and was followed around by a little girl who wanted him to photograph her. Finally, he did — and she held up a stone with a poem etched into it. (This picture appears on the cover of my collection of poems, 19 Varieties of Gazelle — Poems of the Middle East). Through a translator, Michael understood that the poem was ‘her poem’ — that’s what she called it. We urged my dad to translate the verse, which sounded vaguely familiar, but without checking roundly enough, we quoted the translation on the book flap and said she had written the verse. Quickly, angry scholars wrote to me pointing out that the verse was from a famous Darwish poem. I felt terrible. I was meeting him for the first and last time the next week. Handing over the copy of the book sheepishly, I said: ‘Please forgive our mistake. If this book ever gets reprinted, I promise we will give the proper credit for the verse.’ He stared closely at the picture. Tears ran down his cheeks. ‘Don’t correct it,’ he said. ‘It is the goal of my life to write poems that are claimed by children.’”

— Naomi Shihab Nye, from her essay “Remembering Mahmoud Darwish”

cirrates

youknow when kittens meow and their eyes get a bit smaller cos theur faces r so little they cant have their mouth and eyes all the way open at the same time I think about it so muxh