Text





A land of shrouded peaks and marshes. The Highlands.
Freddie Ardley Photography | website | instagram
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I got a lot of beef with the concept of dust. absolutely no reason for something to get dirty just because nothing has touched it. bullshit.
212K notes
·
View notes
Photo
Alejandra Pizarnik, tr. by Yvette Siegert, “Extracting the Stone of Madness”, Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962 - 1972
1K notes
·
View notes
Photo



photography Magda Chudzik
Pieniny (mountain range in Poland)
2K notes
·
View notes
Photo
THIS IS THE MOST GLORIOUS WARM FUZZY HILARIOUS ANIMATION XMAS STORY I DIDN’T KNOW AND I LOVE THIS
75K notes
·
View notes
Text
people talk all the time about “primal instincts” and it’s usually about violence or sexual temptations or something, but your humanity comes with a lot of different stuff that we do without really thinking about, that we do without being told to or prompted to
your average human comes pre-installed with instincts to:
Befriend
Tell story
Make Thing
Investigate
Share knowledge
Laugh
Sing
Dance
Empathize with
Create
we are chalk full of survival instincts that revolve around connecting to others (dog-shaped others, robot-shaped, sometimes even plant-shaped) and making things with our hands
your primal instincts are not bathed in blood- they are layered in people telling stories to each other around a fire over and over and putting devices together through trial and error over and over and reaching for someone and something every moment of the way
154K notes
·
View notes
Text
if a fictional character gets stabbed, they have only 2 valid options:
1. slowly raise their hand to the wound and/or pull the weapon impaling them out while everyone stares in horror before collapsing to the ground from shock and/or blood loss and being caught just in time by their friend/sibling/love interest
2. hide the wound beneath a dark item of clothing in preparation for the dramatic reveal later where another character touches them and their hand comes away bloody or they overexert themselves and they stumble and wince but still try to insist they’re fine, even though they’re clearly in pain and struggling to stay on their feet, and as the other character peels back their jacket it becomes clear that they’re badly hurt and have been for a while (bonus points if they’re wearing a white shirt underneath)
109K notes
·
View notes
Text
inkskinned:
one time he and i were sitting in bed and i said “where do you feel stuff?” and he said “what do you mean” and i said, “here is anxiety” and pointed to my bottom left rib where the spiders start. he pointed to his throat. “it’s here for me.”
i keep anger in my breastbone, he holds it in his hands. i feel sadness on my shoulders, he feels it in his lungs.
we play this game until we come to love, and i realize that i am terrified (jugular vein) of what might come. what if it is not the same. what if he feels it somewhere else, what if it is just a flash fire, not the slow burn, what if it is congealing in one place instead of radiating, i try to change topics, flight response (sternum)
he takes my hands in his and puts them over his ribs and says, “everywhere, everywhere, like a sun is trying to escape me, like i am being consumed and you are filling up where used to be empty.” i say, “don’t be ridiculous humans are 99% empty space,” i nervous laugh (spiders down spine), he holds his gaze with me.
“everywhere,” he repeats.
134K notes
·
View notes
Text
Y’all ever sit there and you’re just like “wow, didn’t think I’d cry about *that* tonight.”
#like 100% expexted to cry because obvi#but that was not the reason i saw coming#quarantine got me like
2 notes
·
View notes