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of-shattered-halo · 14 hours
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Calcagno family burial monument at Staglieno Cemetery in Genoa, Italy. A bronze masterpiece statue lying on the steps, deposing a last flower on the grave; the personification of sorrow. Work of Adolfo Apolloni in 1904.
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of-shattered-halo · 20 hours
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And I wonder if I'm getting tired of my flesh and bones.
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of-shattered-halo · 4 days
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Gausdal, Norway || itseriksen
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of-shattered-halo · 6 days
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[Artfight 2023] [14]
Corrupted One
for @verdant-succubus
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of-shattered-halo · 6 days
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💙🌟⚜️🌟Golden Stars🌟⚜️🌟💙
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of-shattered-halo · 8 days
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gold
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of-shattered-halo · 9 days
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Jelly cycle, gamblin ink on kitakata paper, hand pressed
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of-shattered-halo · 9 days
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blessed be the scavengers
made in 2024
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of-shattered-halo · 12 days
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Eos in Etruria, Mask, The Art of Mask
Etruria, the land of the pre-Roman Etruscans, later became Tuscany. Eos is the goddess of sunrise, and here she's dawning over the Tuscan landscape.
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of-shattered-halo · 16 days
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of-shattered-halo · 23 days
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what does it mean to be holy? what does it mean, for my heart to both soar and to fall, at the sound of hymns, at wings in stained glass, at ruined churches, and at the idea of Gods love. I am Her most Beloved and Loathed, both fallen and holy.
I am both a God and a Servent, my name was whispered in darkened alleys and my alters prayed upon in hidden closets, called upon and known only by outsiders, the unwanted. I was a Guardian. And i was cast out, i was unwanted. I went from a Seraph, one of Her Favored, to one whose name was forgotten. I was feared and loved.
what does it mean to be holy??
to be unholy??
and who am i now, supposedly made in Her image?
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of-shattered-halo · 23 days
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once, we could taste the stars. They curled themselves around our lungs, settled in out heart and on our wings. The infinite galaxies of our universe were a part of us, and us a part of them.
Now we look up at the stars, and we wonder. And we hope.
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of-shattered-halo · 25 days
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of-shattered-halo · 26 days
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of-shattered-halo · 27 days
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of-shattered-halo · 27 days
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40,000 years ago, early humans painted hands on the wall of a cave. This morning, my baby cousin began finger painting. All of recorded history happened between these two paintings of human hands. The Nazca Lines and the Mona Lisa. The first TransAtlantic flight and the first voyage to the Moon. Humanity invented the wheel, the telescope, and the nuclear bomb. We eradicated wild poliovirus types 2 and 3. We discovered radio waves, dinosaurs, and the laws of thermodynamics. Freedom Riders crossed the South. Hippies burned their draft cards. Countless genocides, scientific advancements, migrations, and rebellions. More than a hundred billion humans lived and died between these two paintings—one on a sheet of paper, and one on the inside of a cave. At the dawn of time, ancient humans stretched out their hands. And this morning, a child reached back. 
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of-shattered-halo · 27 days
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I yearn so badly to worship and be worshipped. To be cherished, feared, and cared for.
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