jesus beim letzten abendmahl: das ist keine feier, das ist nur ein treffen
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@father-mckenzie
jesus beim letzten abendmahl: das ist keine feier, das ist nur ein treffen

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wondering what to do with life
this was an ethereal experience
â[Love] promises a way out of our suffering. We suffer from our isolation in our individual separateness. Love reiterates: âIf only you possessed the beloved one, your soul sick with loneliness would be one with the soul of the beloved.â Partially at least this promise is a fraud.â
â Georges Bataille, in Erotism: Death and Sensuality
The Third Day: Autumn (2020) dir. Felix Barrett & Marc Munden
In the sign of the times  -  Hanno Karlhuber, 1995.
German, b.1946-
Oil and tempera on hardboard 100 x 120 cm,Â

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Charlotte BrontĂŤ Â â Jane Eyre
ceiling von Fion N. Ăber Flickr: The Polet Chapel, to the right of the altar, contains a cycle of frescoes (1612-14) by Domenichino, student of Caracci of the Bolognese school. The bright frescoes recount the dramatic events in the life of Saint Cecilia, the patron saint of musicians and church music. Legend has it that as Cecilia lay dying, three days after her throat was cut, she continued to sing "in her heart to the Lord." Above the main altar hangs a painting by Francesco Bassano entitled The Assumption. Rome, Italy '13 - - - - - - - - - twitter | website
Barriers To Intimacy, Olivia de Recat
rawest fucking florence and the machine lyrics in no particular order:
no more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
want me to love you in moderation, do i look moderate to you?
this will be my last confession, âi love youâ never felt like any blessing, whisper it like itâs a secret only to condemn the one who hears it
because i am done with my graceless heart, so tonight iâm gonna cut it out and then restart
tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks and the kindest of kisses breaks the hardest of hearts
but the loneliness never left me, i always took it with me, but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company
at seventeen i started to starve myself, i thought that love was a kind of emptiness, but at least i understood then the hunger i felt, and i didnât have to call it lonelinessÂ
the fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress
itâs an even sum, itâs a melody, itâs a battle cry, itâs a symphonyÂ
but i know itâll have to drown me, before i can breathe easy
to the crowd i was crying out, and in your place there were a thousand other faces
and itâs over and iâm going under, but iâm not giving up iâm just giving in
in a moment of joy and fury i threw myself from the balcony like my grandmother, so many years before me
and itâs peaceful in the deep, cathedral where you cannot breathe
i know i seem shaky, these hands arenât fit for holding
iâm not beat up by this yet, you canât tell me to regret, been in the dark since the day we met, fire help me to forget
it seems that i have been held in this dreaming state, a tourist in the waking world, never quite awake
shower your affection, let it rain on me, pull down this mountain, drag your cities to the sea
and i did cartwheels in your honor, dancing on tiptoes, my own secret ceremonials
a year like this passes so strangely, somewhere between sorrow and bliss
in the spring, i shed my skin and it blows away with the changing winds
i swallow the sound and it swallows me whole until thereâs nothing left inside my soul
and i want you so badly, but you could be anyoneÂ
i was in the darkness, so darkness i became
Pina, Ulli Weiss CafĂŠ MĂźller

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They call him BUBBLES.
eurovision 2019? oh you mean the one where verka serduchka won despite not actually competing?
I mean, Iceland wins biggest balls of the evening.
uk started from the bottom and theyâre still there

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Youâre telling me the GUY WITH THE PIANO THAT WASNâT EVEN ON FIRE WON!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Spring (Detail)Â Â -Â Â Ămile RenĂŠ MĂŠnard
French,1827-1887
Oil on canvas, 199 x 222 cm 78.3 x 87.4 in.