There’s a thunderstorm going on outside and every Romantic bone in my frantic little body wants to go outside and get soaked to the skin, there’s something so enormous and vital about being wet through with rain, or swimming in the sea, or leaning against a high wind. I was definitely put on this earth to die of consumption before the age of 25
when i was a teenager it felt very revolutionary to be cruel to myself. like some kind of slow passive protest against how much everything hurt. i starved myself of sleep and food and tenderness because it felt right. it felt sharp and angry and radical and i wanted to be those things. adulthood is the realisation that the world is already working to cut into you well before you learn how to do it yourself. caring for yourself and others is the real protest
Honestly this whole “shepherd living in a cottage in the middle of eastern europe/scandinavia” fantasy is my healthiest form of escapism yet. Who cares if I’m completely ignoring my deeper traumas. I’m planting cabbage into the soft wet earth bitch
1970s canned goods label designs, from The Art of the Label by Robert Opie. We can see the Helvetica type family really taking hold in this era. And that Biba can was not a regular market item; those were high-fashion baked beans.
My favorite design of the lot: meat and liver cat food.
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