the uninteresting tales of being b.

i'm too old to still be a troubled kid from tumblr.

[joanna-lannister]

MARIE ANTOINETTE (2006) dir. Sofia Coppola

[joanna-lannister]

MARIE ANTOINETTE (2006) dir. Sofia Coppola

[04k96]

[fungusamongusblog2]

[unreadable]

[movie-gifs]

This is fabulous. It is? You're in the dark period. Before light and wisdom come to you. You must forge through it, and once on the other side, you will be grateful to this moment, but you must keep going. I see.

POOR THINGS 2023 – dir. Yorgos Lanthimos

[love]

[visual-poetry]

by juan arata

[zegalba]

Abandoned Tori Gate found in Japanese Tunnel

Such gates are used to mark the entrance to sacred grounds or gods' territories. "The tori gate symbolizes the division between the sacred and the profane, and is considered a spiritual gateway between the physical world and the spiritual realm."

[kosmogrl]

your life is not meaningless, you just haven't seen the sea in a while

[humansofnewyork]

“You’re a slut and a whore for the algorithm. I couldn’t do it anymore. You can never feed it enough. You start out making art, and hoping that the door will open. You’re looking for that viral moment so it opens up the door and you can do the thing full time. But you start to compromise just to get the door to open: guessing what it wants, debasing yourself, alienating yourself. Until you’re not even in service to your art anymore. You’re in service to the algorithm. Deep down every artist just wants to be seen. Everyone does. And that’s how it controls you. The algorithm makes you behave in a certain way, create in a certain way, in exchange for being seen. And if something can change what you do, it can change who you are. And I didn’t sign up for that. I didn’t sign up to become a content creator. Art was supposed to be a way for me to be in search of, in service to, in community with. It was my ministry. Art was supposed to be my ministry.”

[love]

[flower-pale]

[visual-poetry]

by fuelandfires

[c-h-4-n-g-e-s]

[eternismo]

“De vez em quando eu vou ficar esperando você numa tarde cinzenta de inverno, bem no meio duma praça, então os meus braços não vão ser suficientes para abraçar você e a minha voz vai querer dizer tanta, mas tanta coisa que eu vou ficar calada um tempo enorme. Só olhando você, sem dizer nada só olhando e pensando: “meu Deus, mas como você me dói de vez em quando…”

— Caio F Abreu

[parkstone-international]

Edward Hopper