#wtlf

[814sun]

the leaves start to golden, falling to the whims of the wind. oscar looks at the old buildings in front of him, their history settling deep in his bones, his heart hammering against his ribcage - loud, only for him. silence settles around him, strangely - he sees souls passing by, but can't make out any noise from them. the silence might be in his ears, in his mind - in how heavy his heart feels. everything is about to change. everything changed, already, to be fair - but today is a new step he wasn't sure would really happen. and yet.

we are dreaming of tomorrow and tomorrow isn't coming, we are dreaming of a glory that we don't really want, we are dreaming of a new day when the new day's here already, we are running from the battle when it's one that must be fought, and still we sleep.

loud laughs in the hallways, reverberating on the walls, warm melody heard by all. friends running and cursing and screaming. orange sunset, half hidden by the hill. two boys sitting against the archways, stealing glances behind their books, smiling at each other when their eyes cross. closed-world, where the rules are their own, where everything is different, where it's so easy to forget about the obligations they were born with and the pressure that lays heavy their shoulders.

we are listening for the calling, but never really heeding, hoping for the future when the future's only plans, dreaming of the wisdom that we are dodging daily, praying for a savoir when salvation's in our hands, and still we sleep.

clifton academy, bristol. they all go there - children of the aristocracy, golden spoon in their mouth, a different kind of light in their irides. they all go there - old money, new money, the ones that will one day rule the world. they're just kids - not really, not even teenagers anymore. young adults, everything possible under their grasp, even if they don't fully realise it yet. everything seems idiyllic, in-between the red bricks history has assembled. kigdoms are built, alliances are sealed, and friendships are never forgotten.

and still we sleep, and still we pray, and still we fear. and still we sleep.

— poem by ted anderson, dead poets society.

(light and dark academia, dead poets society inspired, university au, aristocracy au, f1 au)

[1655moon]

the leaves start to golden, falling to the whims of the wind. oscar looks at the old buildings in front of him, their history settling deep in his bones, his heart hammering against his ribcage - loud, only for him. silence settles around him, strangely - he sees souls passing by, but can't make out any noise from them. the silence might be in his ears, in his mind - in how heavy his heart feels. everything is about to change. everything changed, already, to be fair - but today is a new step he wasn't sure would really happen. and yet.

we are dreaming of tomorrow and tomorrow isn't coming, we are dreaming of a glory that we don't really want, we are dreaming of a new day when the new day's here already, we are running from the battle when it's one that must be fought, and still we sleep.

loud laughs in the hallways, reverberating on the walls, warm melody heard by all. friends running and cursing and screaming. orange sunset, half hidden by the hill. two boys sitting against the archways, stealing glances behind their books, smiling at each other when their eyes cross. closed-world, where the rules are their own, where everything is different, where it's so easy to forget about the obligations they were born with and the pressure that lays heavy their shoulders.

we are listening for the calling, but never really heeding, hoping for the future when the future's only plans, dreaming of the wisdom that we are dodging daily, praying for a savoir when salvation's in our hands, and still we sleep.

clifton academy, bristol. they all go there - children of the aristocracy, golden spoon in their mouth, a different kind of light in their irides. they all go there - old money, new money, the ones that will one day rule the world. they're just kids - not really, not even teenagers anymore. young adults, everything possible under their grasp, even if they don't fully realise it yet. everything seems idiyllic, in-between the red bricks history has assembled. kigdoms are built, alliances are sealed, and friendships are never forgotten.

and still we sleep, and still we pray, and still we fear. and still we sleep.

— poem by ted anderson, dead poets society.

(light and dark academia, dead poets society inspired, university au, aristocracy au, f1 au)

[cleitoncampos]

Veganos periféricos / WTFL (UK) / 2020

Words by Cleiton Campos

Photography by Ricardo Lima

[theworkshopn4]

C O L L E C T I V E. T H I N K I N G. How can art help us think and act more collectively? Swipe to see my answer. I’d love to know your thoughts 👇🏼 #wtlf #wheretheleavesfall #artistinterview #thenaturekind #collectivethinking #artistinsight #londonartist #artistandnature #veganartist #sustainableartist #lisamarieprice #wearenature #community #collectively #qanda #artlovers #forager #natureart (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ccko4hlMX7Z/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[theworkshopn4]

I N T E R V I E W Where do you feel most at ease? My answer to this will probably always be the same. The woods. Where is it for you? “In the woods. There is something quite special about being beneath the canopy of the swooshing trees above. The way that you can hear the gentle build-up from a breeze that slowly erupts into a glorious chorus of rustling leaves. Being in the woods feels like a close friend giving you a warm hug.” You can read the full article by heading over to @wtlfmag bio Swipe to see a photo of me in a gorgeous Scottish woods with my pup @pearlydoo #wtlf #wheretheleavesfall #artistinterview #naturekind #happyplace #artistinsight #londonartist #artistandnature #veganartist #sustainableartist (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ccis1Vwssxe/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ligakitchen]

A full page illustration for Where the Leaves Fall magazine. 

The illustration follows the thoughts of a mother on bringing a child into climate crisis.

…How do I tell my son about the climate crisis without frightening him? First, I think, I must show him how to love nature. I must help him connect with and respect everything on the planet - human, animal or plant.”

Essay by @katie_dancey . Where the Leaves Fall is a magazine exploring humankind’s connection with nature through the intersection between social justice and the environment, art, science, culture, philosophy and food. Thank you for the opportunity to work together again, @wtlfmag: @lucianepisani and David Reeve. 

[shelbywrobertson]

The things I find when sick. Had no idea that this existed. Regret finding it. Also, @jackblack supporting role. Time to turn off the tele #falcoreisatotalmethaddict #continuityholes #wtlf #buryit (at University of Arizona) https://www.instagram.com/p/B851cZSBT1L/?igshid=7eu8d4z7ekvq

[finntasticmxfinn]

And it appears I am back in the "how effing ridiculous will Black Widow be' mood...

Natasha talking about choices at this point is anti-climactic. We know what Natasha chooses, and it transcends the Red Room. We know who Nat is. Because we watched her jump off a cliff to give her team a chance to save the universe.

Also, one of the big emotional thrusts of Nat's arc is that as she said 'I use to have nothing...' Oh wait, never mind, she actually had another family! Maybe she did not want to speak of her other family to the Avengers, but the movie really hit on the emotional meaning of the Avengers to Nat, and there's a mismatch her.

But, Endgame's writers did not know a Black Widow movie would exist!

On a good not, though, Florence Pugh said she liked the script for Black Widow, so maybe that is something!