
blake kathryn
i don't do bad sauce passes
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
tumblr dot com
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DEAR READER
Cosmic Funnies
One Nice Bug Per Day
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Kiana Khansmith
AnasAbdin
we're not kids anymore.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
d e v o n
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

@theartofmadeline
Keni

seen from Japan

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seen from United States

seen from TĂĽrkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Netherlands

seen from Belgium
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seen from United States
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seen from Israel
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@sappho1993

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antique store door & moka pot latte
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned

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Abdur Rahman Muhammad (Ghanaian, b. 1992)
Green Shimmer, 2023
Oil on canvas
The book I'm reading on top of a baking tray I need to bring back to work today and a magnolia we ate half the petals off of

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“You notice it first as April ends and May begins, a change in the season, not exactly a warming—in fact not at all a warming—yet suddenly summer seems near, a possibility, even a promise. You pass a window, you walk to Central Park, you find yourself swimming in the colour blue: the actual light is blue, and over the course of an hour or so this blue deepens, becomes more intense even as it darkens and fades, approximates finally the blue of the glass on a clear day at Chartres, or that of the Cerenkov radiation thrown off by the fuel rods in the pools of nuclear reactors. The French called this time of day “l’heure bleue.” To the English it was “the gloaming.” The very word “gloaming” reverberates, echoes— the gloaming, the glimmer, the glitter, the glisten, the glamour—carrying in its consonants the images of houses shuttering, gardens darkening, grass-lined rivers slipping through the shadows.”
— Joan Didion, Blue Nights
i made little magnets for my fridge :)
Willow does NOT believe in peace bitch !!

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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Staying here felt like being in a film by Éric Rohmer. And then, one morning, my grandma plays a CD, saying « je dois te faire écouter ça, c’est une de mes pièces préférées », and bam: Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 5 in F fills the air. Truly magical.
A River Runs Through It