Boundlessness, 1985
- Ivan Marchuk (Ukrainian, born 1936)
seen from China

seen from Brazil

seen from Brazil

seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Italy
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States

seen from Spain
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from China

seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from Spain
Boundlessness, 1985
- Ivan Marchuk (Ukrainian, born 1936)

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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The perks of being a wallflower, 2012
escape
Werckmeister harmóniák (2000), dir. Béla Tarr
Infinity [ɪn'fɪnəti] / 20180506 - #무한성 #아득히먼곳 #무한대 #무궁 #infinity #boundlessness #infinitude #∞ #stones #infinitywar #avengers #movie #daily #drawing #sketch #english #word #vocabulary #pen #art #illust #illustration #design #artoftheday #drawingeveryday #alldays #dailyatom #crys #crysju

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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Drop Demands
The Play of PB?
(Caution: The following parts contains themes of seeming personal struggle and recovery. Proceed with mindfulness)
(Part 1-3 were made many years ago, the original version of Part 1 is a catastrophe, it was impossible to read with a straight face and now that I'm older, I rewrote it)
Part I)
In the shadows of solitude, a solitary soul resides,
A symphony of despair, where darkness abides.
Loneliness echoes in the silent halls,
A tale unfolds, where hope calls.
Self-injury, a silent companion in the night,
Leaving scars etched in the fading light.
Hospital stays, a recurring scene,
A cycle of struggle, where pain convenes.
Endless nights of weeping, an anguished plea,
In the heart's abyss, a yearning for the sea.
Depression's grip tightens, an unyielding hold,
A narrative of torment, sorrow untold.
I tried my best, yet nothing helped,
In the echoes of despair, where silence yelped.
Love woven into every effort and embrace,
But darkness persisted, an unyielding space.
So, I write this story confined to a familiar bed,
A patient more often than not, it's said.
Distanced myself from family, friends, and love,
Afraid those I cherish might bury me from above.
Who would care? I wondered in the silent night,
Retreating from love, from warmth, from the light.
No one would know, I whispered in despair,
A solitary journey, a weight to bear.
Part II)
(older than in Part 1.)
In this seeming appearance, where all is "THAT",
Suffering seemed to happen, a wake-up from the mat.
If no seeming suffering, would there be a determination to wake,
And delve into the depths of Self, to find what's at stake?
Yet, in the depth of despair, a subtle shift,
A journey began, as the soul started to lift.
Through the wreckage of pain, resilience grew,
An evolution unfolding, as the truest Self Knew.
Part III)
(older than in Part 2)
In the stillness of Knowingness, a quiet rebirth,
A discovery of Self, a reclaiming of worth.
From the ashes of struggle, a phoenix takes flight,
And there it was, in the silence – Knowingness, bright.
Part IV) "Present"
Marrying my wife, creating a life anew,
Kids and a home, with nothing to complain about, who knew?
Laughter echoes through the rooms so grand,
Yet, funny little gripes, like a misplaced TV remote stand.
Mismatched socks in the drawer's mysterious ballet,
A dance of chaos, where order tries to sway.
Complaining about burnt toast and a runaway sneeze,
In the symphony of joy, these are the notes that tease.
So, here we are, with no shadows to shun,
A family, a home, where laughter is never done.
No longer "alone", in the heart's jubilant spree,
From shadows to sunlight, from the sea to a family.
Yet, in this seeming appearance, where all unfolds,
Illusions dissipate, as the cosmic story holds.
Nothing ever happens, yet life's vibrant dance,
A play of shadows, in the vast expanse.
Children's laughter, like echoes in the void,
A paradoxical truth, where nothing's destroyed.
The home we build, a mirage so clear,
In the realm of nothingness, where all is near.
PB