Florist by Florist
NASA
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
art blog(derogatory)
Three Goblin Art

Kiana Khansmith
DEAR READER
wallacepolsom

Kaledo Art
RMH
almost home
occasionally subtle
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

No title available
Monterey Bay Aquarium
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON

Product Placement
Peter Solarz

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from South Korea
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia

seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Denmark
seen from Argentina

seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
@wewillinglywonder
Florist by Florist
Love Is Overtaking Me by Arthur Russell
A new old song to sing along to. And then eventually you'll have it inside you and you can sing it at night to someone who love right before they lie down to go to sleep. Sing it with your eyes closed. Open your mouth let the sound flow gently out. And think how friendly the night will be. Stars above, flowers all along the path. There's nothing to do but look at each other and smile, not knowing how to say how it feels to be there, and not needing to.
[Image: Franck André Jamme]
kiid by Mal Devisa
[Image: Ming Smith]
We Could Be Each Other's Evidence by Thanksgiving
[Image: Rotimi Fani-Kayode]
Honey Months by Glass Cake
[Image: Anton Van Hertbruggen]
[Image: Katja Telp]
Dark Cloud At Water by Hungry Cloud Darkening
[Image: Anne-Sophie Tschiegg]
A New Day by Paleo
[Image: Miroco Machiko]
REMAMBRAN by Remambran
affirms glinting by frankie cosmos
[Image: Paul Klee]
Lamentations by Moses Sumney
[Image: Cheryle St. Onge]
Rocket by (Sandy) Alex G
He went away, overwhelmed and exhausted. It all always got to be too much. Too much information. Too much to think about. Too much to feel. And too much of it sadness. He figured he'd just start walking and just keep walking and just not stop walking until something forced him to. He couldn't help but still be just as much in love with the world, but he saw that everyone's heart was broken and it all added up to too much. So he walked through the nights and tried to just be—just wherever he was. He wanted to just be of the world, which he figured meant being completely open to it, accepting of it. And he thought he could do that—he ought to be able to. It seemed a duty more than anything having to do with individual preference. He failed to see any other way, so he resolved to walk.
[Image: Tal R]
Empty Country by Empty Country
She liked to be alone in rooms, at night, and go through her collection of remembrances. It was especially nice if there was an open window and outside it was mildly warm, not too warm, and a breeze that brought the particular smells of early spring or mid-summer, or late summer, or autumn nights in to her. That definintely made her remember things more vividly. And there is always so much to remember. She could spend hours remembering all those past experiences in those spaces, those places, the way it felt, the smells, the sounds, the flavors, the moods, the atmospheres. And it made her feel somehow more sure, more certain that she was really, actually alive. Strange that she could feel vitally alive when sitting still, thinking. But the richness of her memories was a proof of her living body's capacity to sense, and perceive, and be impressed, affected by all the different things in the world around her. Her powerfully vivid memory was evidence of her direct exposure to and entanglement with all that composes the world: other creatures, landscapes, buildings, rooms, the weather, light, color, sound, texture, art, events, encounters... She experienced it, it affected her, and the experiences accumulated, adhered within her. And the more time she spent here, alive, the deeper and more complex this store of sensory and emotional experiences became and the more alive she felt. She was not weighed down by her memories—her memories tied her closer and closer to the world, they made her more and more a part of the world.
[Image: Eliana Marinari]
I Look Like Shit by Jeff Rosenstock
How would it feel to have someone in your life who would be so willing to appear a fool for you? Is that kind of friendship rare? Or is it supposed to be easy to make? And doesn't that make you think about being a kid and how you experienced being friends then? You might remember the way all the meaning that could possibly exist in the world, in your life, was all gathered together, concentrated into those singular moments of sharing a secret or of being alone together somewhere mysterious or a little scary, or of feeling, at the same time, together, the very same sadness or the very same joy. You've never really known trust quite like that ever again, have you?
[Image: Garry Winogrand
Shitty Hits by Katie Von Schleicher
She moved back and forth between voraciousness and exhaustion. Ecstatic and so hopeful and enchanted, then soon overwhelmed and numb to everything. She would feel on the verge of some epiphany or as if she were about to discover some fact of reality that, once realized, would forever change the way she thought about things like love and death and tragedy and time itself. And then, almsot like she was empty, her light flickering out. When that happened she would have to find a place to hide—somewhere she could be just held still while waiting for the renewal. Everything would have to be quiet for a while, and she would have to only keep watch and let things flow over and past her. Her thoughts would have to be smaller, simpler for a time. It was mostly just about breathing, then. And she would get to the point where this felt okay—this felt important and integral. And she would learn, over again, how to be patient in it. And she would be patient, and feel at home in it, inevitably. But just as inevitably, the yearning to search and wander through the world's wonders and beauty would return. And it would soon sweep her up and she would once again be voracious and feel ecstatic about it all.
[Image: Ileigh Hellier]
Shall We Go On Sinning So That Grace May Increase? by The Soft Pink Truth
There are those moments when you believe, when you are convinced, certain, that to be here is enough. When you feel absolutely no yearning for anything other than for sensory awareness, for maximum perception of everything you are surrounded by. We could just say that the whole point is to be engaged in the steady, patient pursuit of those kinds of moments. "What are you doing today?" "I'm going to practice finding and getting to those moments of near-perfect entanglement in things."
[Image: Matthew Wong]
Holdly EP by Florist
She tried to build a smaller, slower world in her head. Her plan was to escape that way. She started by thinking of all the different plants and wildflowers she'd bring there, then all the kinds of trees she wanted there. Finally, it was then time to make a list of all the birds that would go with here to this new, secret world in her imagination. She was soon overwhelmed. She wanted them all. She couldn't keep them all in her mind's eye all at the same time like she wanted. But she kept trying and trying. And she could feel something was happening to her. It was like her whole being was being reconfigured, parts of her extending out and weaving themselves into an immense diversity of other beings and places and events and forces.
[Image: Renilde De Peuter]