the earth is so beautiful yet men can’t stop waging wars
i don't do bad sauce passes
NASA
almost home
art blog(derogatory)
we're not kids anymore.
todays bird
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Kiana Khansmith
Sweet Seals For You, Always

@theartofmadeline
$LAYYYTER
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane

ellievsbear
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
RMH

Origami Around

blake kathryn
occasionally subtle
seen from Spain
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Netherlands
seen from Venezuela

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Canada
seen from United States
@ballettes
the earth is so beautiful yet men can’t stop waging wars

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Louise Brooks under the mistletoe in Pandora’s Box (1929).
bell hooks
Lamb of Sorrows (harry styles series)
hiii, this is my first time posting a fic here :) this is really just a sneak peek to see if i get any traction, because this is not the original intention of this account. pls, let me know if you wanna see more.
...
Hidden within an alleyway off one of the busiest streets in the village of Gossamer, lies a narrow bookstore, tucked into a small corner between a gelato shop and a tiny schoolhouse meant for preschoolers. Through the long glass panes at the front of the store, a girl watches as the rain slides down, blurring her image from those on the outside. She wonders silently if anyone would stop by, or even notice when she turned the sign from closed to open given her location.
“What a dreary day for an opening,” she sighed as her hands meticulously tied an ivory colored ribbon around the base of her ponytail.
Her simple outfit, consisting of a white cotton dress and a cardigan, contrasted with the ornate fixtures of what had once been a historic home into a bookstore while managing to keep the integrity of the space intact. While the space was small, due to parts of it being sectioned off into the gelato shop and the schoolhouse, the beautiful antique bookshelving from the original home made up for it. The entire shop was dripping with dark mahogany wood with intricately carved details that made her books placed delicately on the shelves stand out even more.
It was not only a bookshop, but rather, it was a store for her to sell vintage books with covers she had customized and repaired. Following a brief stint of traveling around to different archivists, working with archivists to repair old books, and the death of her grandmother, she decided to invest what little money she had to open her own bookstore. She had never been tied to one place in her life, and especially not now without her grandmother, so she scoured the internet for real estate options within her tight budget, leading her here to Gossamer.
As she turned the sign to open, she noticed small children filtering into the preschool with their parents, or who she assumed to be parents, gripping their hands. It was August, meaning that the school year had just begun, and the kids were hesitant to be left alone. She had briefly met one of the teachers as she was painting the door outside and the sign she planned to hand above, her name was Valerie. As far as she knew, Valerie seemed to be the kind of person who would treat the kids as if they were her own. She hoped that the parents would be quick to pick up on that. She also hoped that they might be in search of a book after dropping the children off.
As if the thought were stolen from her mind, the small bell rang, indicating that someone had popped into the store. The sound made her spring up from her seat on the small stool behind the desk where customers could check out. She saw a woman with dark brown hair and striking features enter through the door.
Clearing her throat, she says, “Hello, welcome to Lamb of Sorrows. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
The woman blinks at her for a moment in response, but a smile is quick to follow as she speaks, “Hello! I noticed that your shop was under construction for some time this summer, I was so excited to know that something was moving into this space. It feels like it’s been so long since Gossamer has gotten anything new, especially a bookstore, and such a unique one at that.”
The woman trails off for a moment, but speaks once again soon after, “I’m Gemma. What’s your name?”
A smile has been slowly turning into a grin listening to the woman—Gemma—speak. The girl answers softly, reaching her hand out in front of her, “Hi, Gemma. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Everly, but you can just call me Evie. I think I’m just as excited as you are about opening up. I was worried that no one would show up to the opening since it’s raining.”
Evie and Gemma shake hands, giggling in conversation with each other. Evie learns soon after their greeting that Gemma is hoping to find some books for her daughter, Annette. It’s as if a lightbulb sparks in her head and Evie darts to a small section she’s created for children’s books, tucked in the back corner, perhaps in hopes that no one would find it, is a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales from 1903.
Evie placed the book down in front of Gemma, “This is a copy from 1903 published by Maynard, Merill. The original cover was destroyed, so I had to rebind the pages.”
The front cover of the book is white, with what looks like a block print of Cinderella, decorated in gold foil. Gemma gasps, “Oh my, this is beautiful. How much for this?”
Evie smiles, shaking her head, “Nothing for my first customer, just promise you’ll spread the word. Plus, that particular copy, I got from my grandmother… No money went into it other than the binding.”
Gemma puts up a fight, but only for a moment, agreeing that she will definitely tell everyone she knows about the new bookstore and the sweet girl who works inside.
…
Once Gemma left, Evie had a handful of customers come by, buying anywhere from one to several books. Opening week went by in a blur, leaving Evie feeling extra exhausted, but fulfilled, by closing time on Friday.
As she is closing up for the weekend, she hears a tap on the door, causing her to perk up. It’s late, so the sun is just on the other side of the building, meaning the alley is dark already. A small shiver creeps up her spine as she makes her way to the door, the air in the room suddenly feeling colder.
With a gentle shove, the door opens, revealing a relatively tall man with curly hair and a cigarette shoved into the corner of his lips. Blinking up at him with a cough due to the smoke, Evie mumbles, “Hello… I’m closing, but could I help you with something?”
The man chuckles, tossing his cigarette down and smashing with his foot making Evie’s nose twitch at the sight, knowing she’d have to sweep that up later, “M’Harry, my sister, Gemma, sent me to bring you this.”
From his pocket, Harry pulls out a small tattered Bible, nudging it towards her, “It was my wife’s Bible, she wasn’t particularly religious, but I reckon it meant something to her family. Gemma said you fix books, think this is salvageable?”
Evie peers down at the book in his hands, grabbing it gently, and inspecting it with an open palm. Her face scrunches in concentration as she pays close attention to where the binding is separating from the pages. Wondering whether or not some of the beginning pages will need to be sacrificed.
Finally, she speaks. “Well, Harry. I think I can do something with it. I’ll try. It’ll take me at least a month, given that I’ll need to wait on some materials for this specific kind of paper.”
Harry smiles to himself, studying the small girl wrapped in a brown sweater, who is much younger than he expected to be. When his sister told him about the bookstore, he expected an older lady with wrinkly hands, but instead he found this girl—doe-eyed with round cheeks, a ribbon in her hair, knee high socks, and faint ink marks on her hands. Nodding at the girl in front of him, he finally says, “That’ll be fine.”
The interaction between the two of them is cut short by a clap of thunder, but despite parting ways, Evie can’t help but think about Harry. She thinks he’s attractive, but she remembers that he said this belonged to his wife, so that interrupts her daydreaming.
Regardless of her feelings towards Harry, she admires the book and the reason for him bringing it by her shop. The pages are worn with love and overuse. Evie can’t help but think about how many hands have touched these pages. She notices a tiny pen mark at the back of the book, dating it 1765 at least. There’s the name, Odessa, written on the first page as well. Evie assumes this is Harry’s wife, but she can’t be sure until she tests the ink to see how far back the signature can be dated.
…
It’s a few weeks until she sees Harry again, despite seeing Gemma at least once a week. Evie learns a lot about her, such as how she and Harry grew up in Gossamer, living just a mile from the city’s center with their mother and father. Gemma tells Evie the story of how she met Annette’s father on vacation in Italy, where she eventually moved, but decided that Gossamer was more suited for raising a family.
Evie shares a bit about herself as well, noting that she grew up with her grandmother as her main guardian, and how she had originally planned to become an author but decided she liked reading books more than writing them.
With time, the two grow closer, prompting Gemma to invite Evie to Annette’s birthday party.
…
Evie arrives at the party with a few minutes to spare, she gathers her gift for Annette out of her car, a facsimile of the first-edition of Alice in Wonderland, a book she felt was fitting considering the theme of the party. Evie has to admit, she feels a little silly showing up to the party dressed as the white rabbit, but she knows the children and Gemma will appreciate her effort. As she makes her way to the front door of the quaint little cottage, she stumbled over a rock jutting out of the walkway. Instead of falling down, Evie falls into Harry, his warm hands grabbing at her waist.
“Ay, watch where you’re going, little rabbit.” Evie’s eyes widen as she realizes she’s fully leaning into Harry’s grasp.
“Oh! Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall into you, didn’t even see you here,” quickly, Evie straightens up, pulling herself from his grasp, blowing hair out of her face that fell during her stumble through the side of her mouth.
Harry’s smile is fond as he gently reaches out to pat her arm, “S’alright… Let’s get inside, worried you’ll freeze out here without a jacket.” Harry immediately took note of her outfit, the little white dress, her signature knee high socks—he’s seen her in them twice—and the crooked bunny ears on top of her head. Well, it was endearing to say the least.
at my age, my heart seems more than ever like a sunflower, always turning toward the light and warmth for more strength and force of character, for more beauty and wisdom.
Anaïs Nin, in a diary entry written circa February 1920 from Linotte: The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1914–20

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From Remy Bond, Star Shaped Baby
oh dear

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The Aristocrat, 1936 by Agnes Tait, 1894-1981
selections from surrealist artist Claude Cahun's 1920s self portraits exploring gender, performance, and sexuality
⋆˚࿔girls will look at you like this, but never actually talk to you first.₊˚⊹ ʚɞ
“I am too tired and I miss you too much.”
— Simone de Beauvior

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Details on the red carpet at the 2023 BRIT Awards - 02.11.2023