[polkadotmotmot]

Eli McMullen - Savior, 2024 - Acrylic and gauche on panel

[venustapolis]

Lake of Tears (Ilya Glazunov, 1988)

[mentaltimetraveller]

Vedovamazzei, Coma Paintings #2, 1999/2014  

[thunderstruck9]

Mircea Suciu (Romanian, b. 1978), Stargazing, 2019. Oil, acrylic and monoprint on linen, 65.4 x 60.4 cm.

[huariqueje]

Fridge with books - Joseba Sánchez Zabaleta , 2022.

Spanish, b. 1970 -

Oil on panel , 77 x 60 cm.

[nemfrog]

"The Fox and the Grapes," illustration. Aesop's fables in rhyme for little. 1924.

Internet Archive

[metamorphesque]

musings on oranges

Alessia Di Cesare, Romero Barros, Wendy Cope, David Stevenson, Rebecca O’Connor, Andrea Kantrowitz, Nina LaCour, Augustin Rouart, Ocean Vuong, Chris Krupinski, Wendy Cope, Mickie Acierno, Jacques Prévert, Robert Spear Dunning, Wendy Cope

buy me a coffee

[metamorphesque]

― Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

[text ID: I am going to outlive myself. Eat, sleep, sleep, eat. Exist slowly, softly, like these trees, like a puddle of water, like the red bench in the streetcar.]

[thebluesthour]

e.e. cummings, from “sunlight was over” (excerpt from Is 5), Complete Poems: 1904-1962

[Text ID: “under us the unspeaking Mediterranean bluer / than we had imagined”]

[feral-ballad]

Pedro Salinas, tr. by Ruth Katz Crispin, from Memory in My Hands: The Love Poetry of Pedro Salinas; “The voice I owe to you”

[reciteful]

“The problem with programming is not that the computer isn’t logical—the computer is terribly logical, relentlessly literal-minded.”

Ellen Ullman, Life in Code

[serymn]

A flower does not think of competing to the flower next to it. It just blooms.

from Zen Shin Talks   (via akidnamedjett)

[october-tenth]

I destroyed my body for a peace of mind I never got.

Unknown (via blloodstream)

[yogarunningtea]

Worry about your character and not your reputation, because your character is who you are, and your reputation is only what people think of you.

(via yogarunningtea)

[weltenwellen]

I try not to live in the past but sometimes the past lives in me.

Jamie Ford, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet (via winterkristall)

[reciteful]

My tattered, scattered thoughts.

Nothing about my life has been tragic.

No one of great significance has died, I'm in college fully paid for, non-abusive parents; very loving parents in fact, I have a car, I have friends, I've had girlfriends, I was a pretty good swimmer, I've become a pretty good photographer on my own, I live in a warm house with a comfy bed, I have food and water, I can enjoy any movie.

There is no tragedy. But sometimes when I'm alone, I feel scattered. I feel like I can do better. I need to do something. WHY AREN'T I PASSIONATE ABOUT SOMETHING or WHY DOES EVERYONE ELSE LOOK HAPPY. WHY CANT YOU DRAWING A STUPID FUCKING FLOWER. Do other people sit in their rooms at 3 a.m. typing shit like this hoping to get a grasp on what their issue is?

Or am I just stuck.

[reciteful]

"Hold fast to dreams, For if dreams die, Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams. For if dreams go, Life is a barren field Covered with snow."

Langston Hughes