Door. 15th century. Credit line: Gift of George Blumenthal, 1935 https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/471170

oozey mess

Product Placement
sheepfilms
dirt enthusiast

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n

Andulka
Sade Olutola
Misplaced Lens Cap
Not today Justin

blake kathryn
Show & Tell

izzy's playlists!
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Three Goblin Art
Claire Keane

if i look back, i am lost

@theartofmadeline
hello vonnie

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Portugal
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Saudi Arabia
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seen from Ireland

seen from United States

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

seen from Germany
@romanticpreraphaelite
Door. 15th century. Credit line: Gift of George Blumenthal, 1935 https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/471170
a good mary oliver poem will save you btw
Beautiful gifts
Photography: “A Palestinian demonstrator sews a Palestinian Liberation Organization flag before a protest during the first Intifada”, February, 1988. Photography: Patrick Robert
I love you personal life section of a wikipedia page (where you find out if someone is gay) I love you forever and ever
Louisa May Alcott, from Little Women
Andrei Tarkovsky's mother, Maria Vishnyakova (1930s) | Margarita Terekhova in Mirror (1975, dir. Andrei Tarkovsky)
Edna St. Vincent Millay, from "Interim"
I love you too much, I’m no good at leaving
Everything I feel returns to you somehow
Susann Carmen Jagodzinska
i’m like touch starved but for a river
bobbin lace fragments, italy c. 16-1700s.
Trees in particular were mysterious and seemed to me direct embodiments of the incomprehensible meaning of life. For that reason the woods were the place where I felt closest to its deepest meaning and to its awe-inspiring workings.
This impression was reinforced when I became acquainted with Gothic cathedrals. But there the infinity of the cosmos, the chaos of meaning and meaninglessness, of impersonal purpose and mechanical law, were wrapped in stone. This contained and at the same time was the bottomless mystery of being, the embodiment of the spirit. What I dimly felt to be my kinship with stone was the divine nature in both, in the dead and the living matter.
Carl Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections
Martyr, Marc Burckhardt
crossfaded.