tragic clown in armor

I was my first soulmate | Professional archaeologist and PhD candidate dropout | Interested in pilgrimage and poetry | Studied at Cambridge like a fool | Fell in love with a British man who loves me back  🤡

[nobrashfestivity]

Unknown, from the Augsburg Book of Miraculous Signs, 1552

Later published as The Book of Miracles

[sirenita00]

[perriaeyjeve]

[nobrashfestivity]

Edvard Munch, The Dance of Life, 1899

more

[pmamtraveller]

Jewels of the deep by artist Edward Julius Detmold

[2utora]

[valsedelesruines]

Have I changed? Of course. It was inevitable. The key is to identify whether that change is productive growth or reluctant erosion. One must start as a trickle and end life as a mighty stream. If you are stubborn to change, you are like the stone in the creek becoming smaller in the face of life's adversities.

[valsedelesruines]

Top jobs I would go for if my industry didn't exist anymore because I love being active and making decent amount of money and engaging only with interesting members of the general public:

- aviation related but not in the air, i.e. ground operations manager

- clinical research coordinator in hospital or pharmaceutical

- utility coordinator

[rrondo]

[earthanthem]

Who has seen the wind?

[enchantedbook]

"Innamorato della Luna" (In Love with the Moon) Antonio Rubino, 1907

[redorchidsfuchsiaribbons]

Lovvvvvve

[valsedelesruines]

Live a little, be a gypsy, get around

[pmamtraveller]

By Eyvind Earle

[nobrashfestivity]

Edvard Munch, themes of isolation:

Woman on sea coast, 1888

Evening melancholy , 1891

[valsedelesruines]

"They go to bed with Gilda, but wake up next to me"

I watch Gilda on TCM. It wouldn't be a movie if it were not about sex appeal. I didn't realise I had seen Rita in the mask on my very second archaeological dig so many years ago. Strange to think I come across it at a time where I am leading my own archaeological investigation.

Even a Rita feels like a Bukowski. I feel like a Bukowski and know it makes me insufferable. Theres something maybe more honest in that. Knowing you go to bed with a Bukowski, and wake up next to a Bukowski. And so, I go back into myself to the point where I want to run away and not speak to anyone at all. To wallow in my own savage mind and call that solitude. You cannot run away from yourself, however. And so, I stay put and in conversation. My self perception ever deteriorating. My body understood the message better than myself and hastened that decay.

Ah, well. I go to bed with myself and wake up with myself. I cannot make sense of it.

[aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman]

The Mirror (1975)

[valsedelesruines]

"Work so hard, I deserve to not give a fuck

Feel so good, gettin' head while I titty-fuck"

[fravery]

Jess Allen (British Artist, born 1966)

"The Passing of Time",

2023. Oil on Canvas