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JBB: An Artblog!

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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Stranger Things
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we're not kids anymore.

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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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@ysegryn
Lion photographed by Pasquale Autorino
The Los Angeles House, 1995
oh, tell me all the important stuff. what’s your favorite color, what makes you so tough?
“Holy Water” photographed by Pasquale Autorino
Pedro de Mena - Ecce Homo (c. 1674). Detail.
Kimsooja added iridescent film to every window and mirror over the floor of Palacio de Cristal (the crystal palace) in Madrid, Spain.
nightrider
Last week I shot a roll of film that I’d got free with a second hand camera. When I got back the scans I found out that the roll had already been used by the guy who gave me it and so I had double exposed it. By chance, both of us had taken a photo of a motorway landscape and this was made. His photo is from the inside of the car looking at countryside and my shot of an urban motorway is best seen on the left hand side.
This is fucking amazing
I haven't written anything here in a couple of months, which is a good thing because I intentionally made this blog to rant and vent when things aren't going so well. So yeah, I have been at a much happier place recently and I'm doing so well. Times are stressful, I'm studying so much and working so hard so I can graduate and I love working on creative stuff with other people who are absolutely. And therefore I don't know why this gets to me sometimes and can become very powerful at times, but I cannot deny that I still feel like the stupid homosexual at times and it makes the day feel like a giant flight of stairs which I will never be able to reach the top of. People mean well but sometimes it's the little things, throw away lines like 'don't be so gay' or 'you can't because you're gay' which put me off. I'm happy with myself but I'm not sure who I want myself to be and that's fine???? Existing boundaries and definitions can just be so incredibly limiting though, when you're not a perfect fit.
Jose Leon Cetillo
I am currently in the library working on my essay but my thoughts are with you and I find myself unwillingly counting how many hours we have left together, even though I do not want to think about it. It must be something around 65. It frightens me. I have been handling the situation incredibly well actually, I moved in with you yesterday and you could say that your presence in front of me is the ultimate reminder of what is about to happen. But I am having a pretty good time. I shield myself from the future but that strategy will soon no longer work and I will have to face my departure from Sweden and Stockholm and snow and you. It makes me sad and it makes me cry and I should really be working on this essay but the only word-formations my hands seem to be able to get out of this keyboard compose a dedication to you. Fuck. I need to talk to you and ask you the question we have already discussed before and in the Christmas break but I know the answer. I hate this goddamn world so much. I love you and you make me happy but the world decided this isn’t going to be a happy ending for the two of us. If you only knew. But maybe you knowing it would make the situation worst because that is what fucked things up in the beginning. I love you less now but you’re just mine, do you understand?
- 2016.01.19