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reading alone in your room at sunset with your windows open while the wind caresses your skin is probably the closest thing we have to a cure for the human condition

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Katherine Larson, from Radial Symmetry; “Almost a figure”

[Text ID: “Forgive me this old / habit. There is a danger / in making suffering / beautiful.”]

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Some film photos from my visit to the botanical gardens

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Come the Slumberless To the Land of Nod, Traci Brimhall

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“In the end you can’t always choose what to keep. You can only choose how you let it go.”

— Ally Condie

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Kingdom Animalia, Aracelis Girmay

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Full moon at the Temple of Poseidon in Sounio, Greece

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Jane Austen, from “Sense and Sensibility”

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Mediterranean life en El Rancho🌾

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The current heatwave creating a very red sunrise.

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okay so. i am becoming desperate and i figured i should post my question here, in case someone can help me and save me from this misery.

i am trying to find a very particular fanfic, for the fandom "the old guard"; i know that it was a complete fic, and the only detail i remember from it is sébastien le livre taking some sleeping pills, for which he was very careful to adjust the doze and increase it with each day [i think so that quynh couldn't see him through the dreams, cause she has kidnapped someone???], and so he keeps adjusting the doze until he dies from overdose and then does it all over again.

it is 2am and i desperately need that fic 😭

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the feminine urge to mourn lost cultures and empires. for your heart to ache every time you remember how many languages no longer have speakers, how many ruins are abandoned, how many people lived happy lives before you. to feel melancholy and longing every time you study history - of this world or another, even fictional. to want to play a role in history, but in the same time fear dying, passing, being forgotten like those thousands before you.

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Elsa la rose (Agnès Varda, 1966)

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ceiling at the palace of Louis XIV, Versailles

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Messy people

Messy people, They imagine others pristine; How they’re afraid To taint the clean slated With their messy loving, And botched co-existential needs; How they’re afraid To claim the real person, When as a matter of fact We’re all messy.

— 7-7-2022, M.A. Tempels ©