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Misplaced Lens Cap

tannertan36

Kaledo Art

Product Placement

#extradirty
Claire Keane

Discoholic 🪩

ellievsbear
h
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Mike Driver
cherry valley forever

Love Begins
Sweet Seals For You, Always
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

blake kathryn
NASA
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@borderline-bruja
Respite 🌻
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Caught the moon hanging out in the bird bath this morning.
I had accidentally deleted this earlier- reposting
by vic xia
Total Solar Eclipse - March 29, 2006, Turkey - source

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Milliat Fleurs
What the Living Do, Marie Howe
Written for her brother, John Howe, who died of complications of AIDS
full poem:
Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up
waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of. It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through
the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off. For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,
I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,
I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it. Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.
What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss—we want more and more and then more of it.
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep
for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless: I am living. I remember you.
Mer au Clair de Lune - Kacziány Ödön
Creative Gardens, 1986
— Franz Kafka, Letters to Friends, Family, and Editors

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'Under Monet's Pond' by Eiko Jones
melscooksnbakes
Small Wire, Anne Sexton

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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The Vampire Lovers (1970) dir. Roy Ward Baker