be honest is he doomed
ojovivo
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

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One Nice Bug Per Day
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Game of Thrones Daily
$LAYYYTER

if i look back, i am lost
Claire Keane
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

★
Sweet Seals For You, Always

blake kathryn
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Xuebing Du

pixel skylines
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
h

tannertan36

JVL
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seen from Singapore
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@realignmyshoulders
be honest is he doomed
some rdr2 drawings i made BECOME JAVIER ESCUELLA/CHARLES SMITH PILLED!!
more kieran....
hello tumblr lets popularise adlerlinton right now best rdr2 ship by FAR
dreams for ponies
mrs sadie adler, widow /// [redraw]
I’m not in love with you but I seem to keep acting that way. If I ever figure it out I’ll let you know.
Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait in Letters — W. D. Snodgrass, April 1959
Emily Lipson, Dykes Vol. 1, 2026
Andrea Gibson, "DEPRESSION [VERB]", Lord of the Butterflies
The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart
by Jack Gilbert
How astonishing it is that language can almost mean, and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say, God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according to which nation. French has no word for home, and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people in northern India is dying out because their ancient tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost vocabularies that might express some of what we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would finally explain why the couples on their tombs are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated, they seemed to be business records. But what if they are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light. O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper, as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind’s labor. Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script is not language but a map. What we feel most has no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.
Le bonheur vient quand on ne le cherche pas.
Happiness is a state of which you are unconscious.
The moment you are aware that you are happy, you cease to be happy
"Now I am a vial of perfume, emptied."
Alfonsina Storni, "Sweet Torture" from Selected Poems
Simone de Beauvoir, from a diary entry featured in Diary of a Philosophy Student
the best friends ever <33
obsessed with karly hartzman’s guitar
Sidney Sheldon, “The Stars Shine Down”