Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Stranger Things
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

shark vs the universe
Misplaced Lens Cap
Sweet Seals For You, Always
$LAYYYTER
we're not kids anymore.
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
taylor price
Sade Olutola

pixel skylines

titsay
ojovivo

Discoholic 🪩

JVL
almost home

seen from Japan

seen from Japan

seen from Australia

seen from Greece
seen from Croatia

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
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@seraphic-sun
Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home

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Sandro Botticelli, La Primavera, detail - c.1478-82
Joan of Arc for sketch_dailies!
“Some days I don’t exist. My bed becomes a casket.”
— Juansen Dizon, I Am The Architect of My Own Destruction page 24
“I don’t blame the ocean for gorging on flotsam, or eating people alive.”
— Sally Wen Mao, from “Antipode Essay” (via voirlvmer)

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Lorde for The Guardian (2017)
There is no without, no beyond, no outside of the cave. That is the radical difference between Nietzsche and Plato.
Leo Strauss
Margaret Atwood, The Penelopiad
“At night the madness goes for my throat.”
— Christa Wolf, Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays (tr. Jan van Heurck)

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Lady Gaga on the second incarnation of the Monster Ball Tour (2011)
Postcolonial Love Poem, ‘Wolf OR-7′ by Natalie Diaz
[ID: I confuse instinct for desire - isn’t bite also touch?]
“About noon, an arrow entered Joan’s body, just above her left breast, at exactly the place she had prophesied to her confessor on her way from Chinon to Orléans. She fell back, in shock and in great pain. She wept, despite her foreknowledge of the nature of her wound. It is as though she were surprised, not that she had been struck by an arrow, but that it would hurt.”
— Mary Gordon, Joan of Arc (via wheredoesthehoneyflow)
“you smell like a dead woman
your breast open like a coffin / and laugh at me from the beyond / your two long thighs rave crazily / your belly is as naked as a wail of death
you are beautiful like fear / you are mad like a dead woman
the unhappiness in unnameable / the heart is a grimace”
- Georges Bataille, The Collected Poems. trs Mark Spitzer.

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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Let’s go home. I am home.
“Dig your teeth into me. Come on, I dare you. Take a bite. Open me up: raw and candyfloss pink on the inside. Make it hurt. I figure, you’re going to hurt me one way or another. Might as well be with your mouth.”
— IT’S A CIRCUS AND WE ALL PAID TO BE HERE,by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)