
oozey mess
The Bowery Presents
Monterey Bay Aquarium

pixel skylines
Sweet Seals For You, Always
$LAYYYTER
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola

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Cosimo Galluzzi

Love Begins
sheepfilms
KIROKAZE
almost home
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

ellievsbear
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official daine visual archive
Misplaced Lens Cap
seen from New Zealand

seen from Türkiye
seen from Colombia

seen from Canada

seen from Türkiye
seen from Brunei
seen from Netherlands
seen from Germany

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Brunei

seen from United States
seen from South Africa
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Uzbekistan

seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United Kingdom
@to-beloved
John Keats’ letter to Fanny Brawne, June 1820.
“Upon my soul I have loved you to the extreme. I wish you could know the Tenderness with which I continually brood over your different aspects of countenance, action and dress. I see you come down in the morning: I see you meet me at the Window–I see every thing over again eternally that I ever have seen. If I get on the pleasant clue I live in a sort of happy misery, if on the unpleasant ’tis miserable misery(…) If I am destined to be happy with you here–how short is the longest Life–I wish to believe in immortality–I wish to live with you for ever(…) Let me be but certain that you are mine heart and soul, and I could die more happily than I could otherwise live.”
John Keats Collection, 1814-1891; MS Keats 1, Letters by John Keats. Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.
This is the hauntingly beautiful Shelley Memorial at Oxford. Commissioned to “depict” how his drowned body looked washed ashore. I hope to view this in person one day. Photo source: http://hcshakespeare.blogspot.com/
Coffee with my love from yesterday’s beautiful brunch 💛
Today, I will be exploring with Flaneur the meaning of flowers.
love letters only
Laura Makabresku
I wear perfume to intensify who I am. That's why I can't use fragrances that go against me. Wearing perfume is an instinctive wisdom. Perfume is an art. And like all art, it requires some self-knowledge.
Clarice Lispector
butterfly kisses rose ♡