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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Monterey Bay Aquarium
I'd rather be in outer space šø
dirt enthusiast
NASA

JVL
taylor price
AnasAbdin
DEAR READER
art blog(derogatory)
Aqua Utopiaļ½ęµ·ć®åŗć§čØę¶ćē“”ć
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Discoholic šŖ©
wallacepolsom
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@svffi
somewhere between
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In Qasyun she emerged like incense, and I swayed in the scent of her shy and intimate taste.
Adonis, from āTransformations of the Loverā, The Pages of Day and Night (trans. Samuel Hazo)
ride or die.
I love the smell of autumn rainā¦
petrichor: the smell of the earth after it rains
She doesnāt feel more known, more understood. Instead she feels less understood. She feels nameless. What, underneath it all, is she really like? How can she tell? Maybe she is what the poets say she is, after all; maybe she has only their word, their words, for herself.
Margaret Atwood, from āLoulou: Or, The Domestic Life of the Language,ā (via violentwavesofemotion)
Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
EMILE VERNON - A summer beauty (detail)
Luigi Rossi - Primavera (detail)
āIt is an agonizing cry to the void but could you please, please, leave me be?ā
ā Rebecca West, from a letter to S. K. Ratcliffe written c. February 1916
Velimir Khlebnikov, from The Collected Poems & Writings of V. K.Ā āMy Darling,ā
I am too tired and too tiring.
Marcel Proust, from a letter to Jean Gustave Tronche c. June 1919 (via violentwavesofemotion)
āI feel broken. I want only a corner to sleep in, and recuperate my lost strength, and a human being beside me. I want to hide away. I have my own desert to traverse. It is my turn to go away and find what I must do.ā
ā AnaĆÆs Nin, from a diary entry written c. June 1942, featured in āMirages,ā (via violentwavesofemotion)
šate š¢pade love shack heą·rt purse ą» āĖ āæ