bubblegirl 15fps
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Not today Justin
occasionally subtle
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Three Goblin Art
styofa doing anything
One Nice Bug Per Day
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Janaina Medeiros

JVL
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Jules of Nature
Cosmic Funnies
Sade Olutola
i don't do bad sauce passes

Origami Around
$LAYYYTER
Sweet Seals For You, Always

JBB: An Artblog!
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
noise dept.
seen from Ukraine
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@zeroisnan
bubblegirl 15fps
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Some of us are afraid of dying; others of human loneliness. Profane was afraid of land or seascapes like this, where nothing else lived but himself.
Thomas Pynchon - V.
white flower in street light
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“fotografando una sola realtà se ne possono vedere moltissime. All’interno di una sola immagine coesistono diverse realtà. Questa è la magia della fotografia” (Daido Moriyama) ^
whoops
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winter afternoon light
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There’s a ghost in the sky
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In the longer view it doesn’t matter.
However, it’s that having lived, it matters.
So that every death breaks you apart.
You find yourself weeping at the door
of your own kitchen, overwhelmed
by loss. And you find yourself weeping
as you pass the homeless person
head in hands resigned on a cement
step, the wire basket on wheels right there.
Like stopped film, or a line of Vallejo,
or a sketch of the mechanics of a wing
by Leonardo. All pauses in space,
a violent compression of meaning
in an instant within the meaningless.
Even staring into the dim shapes
at the farthest edge; accepting that blur.
-Ruth Stone, “Shapes”
dispatch #5 : a comeback
This is a place of memories I’d like to keep in order and tidy. How ridiculous is that? To keep memory tidy. So many things have happened these years, I lost a guide, but found a hand to hold on to while walking through the storm.
To the people I met here, hello I’m still here, I’ve actually never gone away, but I had lost all the words and didn’t even know where to look for them. I’ll see you around.
<3
night rider
I am a dark bowl, waiting to be filled. If I open my mouth now, I could drown in the rain.
I hurry home as though someone is there waiting for me. The night collapses into your skin. I am the rain.
-Kazim Ali, excerpt from “Rain +