when you are in the middle of a story...

it isn't a story at all, but only a confusion; a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass and splintered wood; like a house in a whirlwind, or else a boat crushed by the icebergs or swept over the rapids, and all aboard powerless to stop it. It's only afterwards that it becomes anything like a story at all. When you are telling it, to yourself or to someone else. {multi rp account, no card, rules and such on blog itself} strongly affiliated with threecardtrick

[xshayarsha]

“Her hair falls down like tears.”

— Angela Carter, from The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; The Lady of the House of Love.

[simena]

J. Obrovsky

[cultofthedarksun]

Leopold Schmutzler

[expressions-of-nature]

Fyrish Monument, Scotland by Kier Allen

[weltenwellen]

Buttercream Joy Sullivan

[lordwilde]

'Ginkgo' chair by Claude Lalanne

[weepingwidar]

Mia Bergeron (American, 1979) - Ancestors (2021)

[afternoonbreezes]

Tawq al-hamama al-mafqud | The Dove’s Lost Necklace (Nacer Khemir, 1991)

[kuutamosonaatti]

vineyard snails and a pomegranate 1810-1820

[arthistoryvault]

Henri Fantin-Latour - Flowers and Fruit

[simena]

Václav Brožík (detail)

[rosieandthemoon]

By Lacey Law

[fcirfolk]

Clarice Lispector, The Passion According to G.H.

[nodovess]

Ella Naper 1886-1972. Lily pad hair combs 1906.

[random-brushstrokes]

John White Alexander - The green bow (1898)

[canirove]

Victoria (2016-2019) | s01e03 & s01e04 | 33/?

[holespoles]

Christian Krohg (Norwegian painter, 1852 - 1925)