Seppuku

Scott. 25. Leo/ Virgo/ Taurus moon. Guess my birthday.

[whiskeyandgrit]

[memorycycle]

first thing id do as a skeleton is drink red wine from a goblet and have it spill out everywhere . second thing id do is play my ribs like a xylophone

[bishamontaen]

fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood // scenery –> resembool 

the first day

[puckdaddyjerseyfouls]

[natalieironside]

It's that time again

[cryptotheism]

[depsidase]

[winternow]

[aizea]

[lizardsister]

moth girl giggling and blushing kicking her feet in the air writing in a pretty pink journal with a cute glittery pen and when you look at the page its just a bunch of drawings of streetlamps

[sakrogoat]

Joos van Cleve - Lucretia (detail)

[photografya-deactivated20230917]

[dangered]

via weheartit

[smouldered]

*sends u casual nudes to let u know I’m thinking of u*

[lbmh-deactivated20150104]

Visit Original Link

[dontbefooledd]

been down and lost for days

[by-shachi]

[rudygodinez]

Erica Baum, Nine Images from “Dog Ear”, (2011)

A dog-eared page — a folded corner — is the simplest memory system: it marks a stopping point, a favorite passage, a place to remember. Along with marginalia, underlining, and other notational strategies, dog ears map a history of reading and remind us that reading is a physical act: an encounter with words, to be sure, but also a tactile experience with paper and individual pages of a book. A dog ear is legible as a readerly engagement with the material text. Someone read this; someone stopped here. 

Erica Baum’s book Dog Ear (Ugly Duckling Press, 2011) makes this point and takes it further. In Baum’s rendering, the dog ear presents an activist readerly engagement: by folding a page, the reader creates a new site of meaning, a square of text to be encountered not as placeholder but as a rich cluster of words, selected (appropriated, deformed) by the reader’s hand.