off 2 sleep
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Show & Tell
Peter Solarz
Xuebing Du

titsay

ellievsbear
Cosimo Galluzzi
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Product Placement

oozey mess
sheepfilms
dirt enthusiast

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n

Andulka
Sade Olutola
Misplaced Lens Cap
Not today Justin

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@enilame
off 2 sleep

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Swimming under giant trees
lucky
"Breaking Branches" -emaline
I am learning that climate action takes many forms, and if we use our craft (especially when it is done with love), the most potent forms of the revolution emerge. We cannot ignore what’s going on any longer. And now?

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An Inordinate Fondness ,Rose-myrtle Lappet Moth - Roos Holleman
Dutch , b. 1989 -
Piëzografie on 310 grs Hahnemühle German etching paper , 48 x 33 cm. Ed.33
from In the House With No Doors by Sarah Kay
Saeed Jones, How We Fight for Our Lives
Life of Pi (2012) dir. Ang Lee
to pace myself because i love myself beyond the current moment. when it’s all black in the wintertime, you’ll remember the vibrations of some other world that it let you into. and you’ll sing a song that makes a white rose peak out of the snow with all of the joy you’ve cultivated, the love that’s been sewn and malnourished and begging and large.
it’s tender now—the beginning of a heartbreak, of too many cracking voices and a face that’s allowed to glow with redness in all of its glory. no longer anxious but excited and alive and aware of a purpose larger than pleasing people. what can i say other than i love you? what can i say other than i love her. the world is open and yearning on purpose. we crave the beauty because it brings us closer to that hair spinning in the wind on the side of my face as the sun hits and Mom tells me: “Just Enjoy.”
It’s a wide open summer now. all the leaves have budded fully and the spring flowers have folded into the open sky of the dirt ground. god is here because she loves you. god is here because you deserve love. and that’s why the gift was given. what are you going to do with it?

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Jeff Daniel Smith
Chanukah foods from around the world
Moon rise by Phyllis Shafer (born 1958).
Whitepeople believed that whatever the manners, under every dark skin was a jungle. Swift unnavigable waters, swinging screaming baboons, sleeping snakes, red gums ready for their sweet white blood. In a way, he thought, they were right. The more coloredpeople spent their strength trying to convince them how gentle they were, how clever and loving, how human, the more they used themselves up to persuade whites of something Negroes believed could not be questioned, the deeper and more tangled the jungle grew inside. But it wasn’t the jungle blacks brought with them to this place from the other (livable) place. It was the jungle whitefolks planted in them. And it grew. It spread. In, through and after life, it spread, until it invaded the whites who had made it. Touched them every one. Changed and altered them. Made them bloody, silly, worse than even they wanted to be, so scared were they of the jungle they had made. The screaming baboon lived under their own white skin; the red gums were their own. Meanwhile, the secret spread of this new kind of whitefolks’ jungle was hidden, silent, except once in a while when you could hear its mumbling in places like 124. (B 198-99)
-Toni Morrison, Beloved
David Grossman

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Spring inspiration
chinese snuff bottle via 丨鶴廬丨