[...] Cóż dziwnego zatem, że, przerażeni własną słabością i ogromem zadań, chowamy głowę w piasek i, organizując sobie parodię przeszłości, uciekamy od świata w światek?...
Witold Gombrowicz, Dziennik 1953-1956
🪼
noise dept.

Discoholic 🪩

titsay
Claire Keane
hello vonnie
almost home
NASA

izzy's playlists!
AnasAbdin

ellievsbear
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
occasionally subtle

Janaina Medeiros

JBB: An Artblog!
sheepfilms
will byers stan first human second
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

pixel skylines
Sade Olutola
seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from Greece

seen from United States

seen from Iraq
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Italy

seen from Malaysia
seen from T1

seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
seen from United States

seen from Netherlands
@seraphimonthesearch
[...] Cóż dziwnego zatem, że, przerażeni własną słabością i ogromem zadań, chowamy głowę w piasek i, organizując sobie parodię przeszłości, uciekamy od świata w światek?...
Witold Gombrowicz, Dziennik 1953-1956
Hidden Worlds (by Ivan K. Maras)
[...] i znów mnie męczy to samo, co przez całe życie mnie męczyło, co tak zaważyło na moim sposobie bycia z ludźmi, ta konieczność lekceważenia siebie, aby się dostroić do tych, którzy mnie lekceważą, lub którzy w ogóle nie mają o mnie zielonego pojęcia.
Witold Gombrowicz, Dziennik 1953-1956
by Yousef Espanioly
by Marc Szeglat
@mermaidsoulll
Tokyo after dark / Liam Wong / instagram.com/liamwong
Sunrise beach reflections | benmuldersunsets
Location: Surfers Paradise, Queensland, Australia
My zatem nikomu nie narzucimy naszego uczucia, ponieważ uczuć naszych nie bierzemy na serio. I byłoby zbyt dziwne, gdyby takie widzenie człowieka urodziło się wśród ludzi, którzy siebie lekceważą.
Witold Gombrowicz, Dziennik 1953-1956
(...) nic własnego nie może człowiekowi imponować; jeżeli więc imponuje nam wielkość nasza lub nasza przeszłość, to dowód, że one w krew nam nie weszły.
Witold Gombrowicz, Dziennik 1953-1956
source
I have this feeling which is difficult to explain, but I’ll do my best.
I went to see a band a couple of nights ago, they were releasing some J-ROCK album and they were putting all their efforts into making their music work. They were really serious about it.
For me the music was a little bit bland, raw, it was no there, yet they were really talented as individual musicians, and as a part of the concert they gift me an album.
This brought me back to when I was moving from my home to tokyo, and I had to sort so much stuff, and specially throw away stuff.
Once again, I know there’s a lot of people who are detached to things, everybody is different so in this case, just bear with me if you read this far, otherwise go on living your life.
While I was in the concert I had a flashback of me throwing away comics, fanzines, EP’s, stuff that honestly didn’t mean a single thing to me, or maybe some of them did at one moment, but couldn’t stop helping how by throwing away those items, I was throwing away their authors dreams, and that feeling alone made me really, really depressed.
It’s impossible for all of us to become the beatles, it’s impossible for all of us to succeed at art, but anyway, I can only think of that image, of being alone in an soon to be empty room, filled with stuff in the floor that probably meant the world to someone else, all their expectations to become someone, to make it in an oversaturated business, to change someone else’s life through art. To make a really good comic, or make that one really good song.
Just pilling up magazine over magazine, and i’m back again at the concert watching this guys play, and I have the worst sensation in the world, they are having, putting their minds, their spirit, their youth, and they will probably not make it. And then life moves on, you keep on living, and you forget about your dreams or dreams change, so they can accomodate to your present.
Now i’m here, home, thinking of all those wasted magazines, eps, thinking of me, of what i’m doing, and what everyone is doing.
fuck it’s depressing.
“Man lives on earth, doesn’t he? Well, in the dark, the earth disappears.”
– Witold Gombrowicz, Pornografia
Little Building
…byłoby to zabawne, gdyby zabawa nie była w nim czymś tak poważnym. On bawił się na serio.
Oh Lovely Sky