ॐ

˚ . ˚ 　. ㅤ　☆ㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤ☽ 𝅦 . ˚ ㅤ. ˚

"cause we are food for worms, lads because believe it or not each and every one of usin this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die..."

◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ☾ ◯

This month's color for my zodiac sign ♎is 88bdbb !! Me and my everyday thoughts... I think I'm destined to be a unicorn w lots of shine 4 this world, Just being bibi🪬💟▶️

A writing that came to me while watching the film "Bones and All." It's also inspired by Gustav Klimt's work "The Kiss."

Klimt's lovers don't embrace: they devour each other through their skin. Beneath that blanket of gold and silver, there isn't just refuge; there's a carnal pact, a fusion that burns and consumes, a flame that doesn't distinguish between tenderness and hunger. Outside, reality exists, but for them it has dissolved into a thick, starry, unreal sky; a distant curtain that slowly rots while their bodies recognize each other in a language only they speak. Their bare feet dangle over the void, but they don't tremble; the fall is just another way of staying together. Everything about them shines, but that shine isn't innocent: it burns. The golden surface lies, hiding the raw truth that beats in their hands. Because it is their hands—firm, grounded, almost desperate—that tell the real story. No ornament can hide the electricity that passes from one palm to the other, as if contact were an open wound that refuses to heal. They are hands that don't let go, that don't know how to let go, hands that would drag the other to hell if it meant continuing to feel them. We, oblivious and hungry for that warmth, can only watch. Envy mixes with an uncomfortable modesty: we know that this moment doesn't belong to us, that we are intruders in something that should remain hidden. We feel the cold on our skin, that absence of a blanket, and we understand that what burns between them isn't just love: it's need, it's desire taken to the limit where one no longer knows if they love the other... or want to consume them completely.

˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̥°̩̥‧̥♥︎⁠‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̥°̩̥‧̥·♥︎⁠°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̥°̩̥‧̥·♥︎⁠°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̥°̩̥‧̥·♥︎⁠‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̥°̩̥‧̥·♥︎⁠⁠‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̥°̩̥‧̥·♥︎⁠°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̥

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

For me, stones are fragments of different planets. It's so cosmic and at the same time earthly. It represents the essence of where they come from. Their color and pattern are a message for whoever finds them.

° ⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ݂ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ֹ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ♪ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ݂ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ۬ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ִ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ♩ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ͙ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ं

My essence lives in every resonance of what I have shown myself to be, a soul that lives and feels things with all its heart to the point of stripping myself like a formless light, abstract perhaps.

° ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❀ᮬ ݂ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ֹ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ݂ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ۬ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ִ ⠀⠀⠀𓂩 ͏ ͏ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ͙ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ ं

⣎⡇ꉺ◞˚̩̩̥͙° ݂ °̩̥‧̥ ⠀⠀✳️⠀˳.⋆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀summer time !

Bendita seas, ⠀⠀⠀⠀al igual que el mar⠀⠀...

͏͏.  　˚　　* ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ᅠ✧ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ᅠ𝄞͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ᅠ✧ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ᅠ　  ֗  ۪ ﹡ㅤ ֗ ۪ ﹡ㅤ ֗ ۪ ﹡  ֗  ۪ ﹡ㅤ ֗ ۪ ﹡ ͏͏ ᅠ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ᅠ

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ࿙ :·. ˚̣̣̣͙ . ㅤ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ࿙ . ㅤ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ࿙ :·. ˚̣̣̣͙ . ㅤ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙࿙

⠀⠀𝄔𝄀𝄚𝄞𝄚𝄲𝅘𝅥𝄚𝅘𝅥𝅰𝄚𝄚𝅝𝄀𝄲𝅘𝅥𝄚𝅘𝅥𝅰𝄚𝄚𝅝𝄀𝄲𝅘𝅥𝄚𝅘𝅥𝅰𝄚𝄚𝅝𝄂