todays bird
official daine visual archive
Misplaced Lens Cap

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
RMH
𓃗

if i look back, i am lost

titsay

Love Begins
noise dept.

Discoholic 🪩

PR's Tumblrdome
No title available

No title available
★
almost home
EXPECTATIONS
h
art blog(derogatory)
No title available
seen from United States

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

seen from Mexico
seen from Italy

seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from Finland
seen from South Korea

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Netherlands
@she-is-inevitable
Critical thinking skills and the general population of the modern world appear to have a rather poor relationship.
The artist is always
an act of coming home, to new
boats and old lights, clouds cast
from the same cloth
as the love that raised
the steeple. Coloured pens spill down
the steps large enough to make a small boy
use his hands to climb.
The artist is always
the truth of coming home.
It is 2012 and you’re showing your sister the clothes you randomly bought to fly across the ocean to see the girl you’ve never met but share a blog with and as we all know that’s real intimacy. A few days later and you’re fucking in a hotel in St. Pete and it turns out you’re both more and less real than you thought. You’re a story before you’re a person and you know it and don’t even care.
That’s tumblr.
How could we not wish
to tell, to hear
a lifetime
of stories.
Syntax took a wrong turn
at the cycle path,
misplacing the question
mark, as the children
skated their way through
Dickensian postcards
and small town pubs.
“… the past is never
dead. It’s not
even past.”
Stories.
And our insatiable hunger.
My toxic trait
is not a thinly veiled presentation of something about myself I actually perceive and, more importantly, expect others to perceive as positive.
Fuck off with that performative shite.
In other news I am over here believing in the genuine uniqueness of every person while pondering the essential individuation simply provided by space(and)time.
You are over there believing in the genuine uniqueness of every person while pondering the essential individuation simply provided by space(and)time.
Of course we’re not the same.
One day, I will actually express my adoration of @-eff through the medium of medieval welsh dancing and build her a house out of sun-bleached choc-ice sticks.
Until then, nah, didn’t say that. You’ve got the wrong guy.
When people follow me because they come across a long deleted nsfw post of mine with hundreds of notes and get all excited for more only to find sporadic and utterly random musings and pictures I find the world to be a beautiful place.
Hands up if you knew Freyahypno was a thing?
Sitting in a cave, an actual literal strange acoustics cave, looking out at the Irish Sea. Quick sketch for nothing and everything, no one and everyone.
Two swallows gave shape
to the blue over the headland,
the sahara spiralling
in their wake and my waking.
Home.
So what with one thing and another aka Covid I am coming to you for recommendations for podcasts and audiovisual entertainment to get me through the next few days, in which I shall mostly be acquainting myself with the hidden depths of both bed and soul.