bible reading: thread/documentation/digital margins
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane

ellievsbear
Aqua Utopiaļ½ęµ·ć®åŗć§čØę¶ćē“”ć
RMH
art blog(derogatory)

Origami Around

Kiana Khansmith

blake kathryn
occasionally subtle

Product Placement
I'd rather be in outer space šø
Three Goblin Art

Discoholic šŖ©

if i look back, i am lost
Acquired Stardust

Andulka

titsay
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@ventusolariss
bible reading: thread/documentation/digital margins

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āOne is everywhere trapped between a literal and an ironic reading. A more or less conscious calculation that aims to disorientate any value judgement. It is particularly flagrant in the field of art, where this studied vagueness as to how a work is to be read has supplanted illusion and aesthetic judgement. Deep down, however, it is reality itself that has become so banal and insignificant that it has induced us into an ironic reading. It has become so homogenized that it breaks off from itself into a parallel reality. It is out of nostalgia that we embed it in another order: in the face of this insignificance, we are forced to hypothesize a more subtle realm beyond, a dimension beyond our grasp. A critical masochism by which all the speculative arts have found success.ā
ā Jean Baudrillard, Cool Memories V
āFor her ā All seven deadly sins!ā
Metropolis | 1927 | dir. Fritz Lang
'the three graces, after giovanni antonio pellegrini,' color wash-manner etching and engraving, jean franƧois janinet, french, 1786.

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Photographed by Esra Sam for GQ Portugal October 2025
me alone: what is life
me when people: oh. i get it now
Lettres d'anoblissement accordées à Jehannon Roy - 1475 - Aix-en-Provence
sleep is a little death, and for a long time, i experienced an intrinsic existencial horror at the annihilation of self that it invites. i cannot imagine myself without my mind; how could i? it seemed, and still seems, a void. a space where the "i" goes to rest, and die, little by little, with each passing day. however, tonight i thought of something. i thought of being, and of myself as one, and my body - my physical presence - a fact i pay little mind in my day to day life though i ought to allocate it more time in my conscience. my body remains, doesn't it? when my conscience goes where i cannot follow, my form is still present, and will be once i wake up, or i would not be able to. it is evident i have anxiety. in fact, it was much worse before i got on medication, and so it causes me a panic - what if i choke to death, or a ceiling falls on top of me, or anything else happens? and this is where i find comfort in the cold logic of probability. some time ago, i lived with this fear, of something happening to my body in my sleep, and it was not unfounded, and in fact perfectly logical. but the circumstances were unusual for the larger population, and have long since, thankfully, changed. and so, my body will remain. if i start to choke, it will awaken me. if a fire breaks out, i have people in the building that would alert me. i may have forgotten to turn the stove off. i may fall and hit my head and die, very stupidly, in my sleep. but compared to what was, the probability of it is negligible. it exists, of course, as all probabilities do, no matter how little, but it is negligible for the time being. my body, my physical form, the thing i ignore is the one that grounds me to the waking reality, the one that will allow me to wake up, and be myself again. i find i am immensely grateful for it.
philosophy is such a comforting field of study for me. perhaps because only here can i find myself reflected in writings, in thoughts, in concepts. and i do not mean as a human, or a personality. i do not consider myself a thinker, nor someone who delves into deep topics. rather, my descend is that into the shallow waters of a grand, terrible and beautiful ocean of thought. and in the sand, in trinkets washing ashore, i can find my own perception of life, of people, of being. there is a sort of understanding that forms as i search for them, or stumble upon a seashell that whispers into my ear what i would have not found words to describe. i am a lonely person, it is not a secret. but when i pick it up, when i put it to my ear and listen and, sometimes, whisper back - it makes me feel a sense of connection i do not have elsewhere

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Abraham said not a word, but lifted up his eyes and saw Mount Moriah in the distance. He left the servant boys behind and went up the mountain only with Isaac, taking him by the hand. But Abraham said to himself: āI will indeed not conceal from Isaac where this path is leading him.ā He stood still, he placed his hand upon Isaacās head in blessing, and Isaac bowed down in order to receive it. And Abrahamās countenance was fatherly, his look was gentle, his voice admonitory. But Isaac could not understand him, his soul could not be lifted up; he clasped Abrahamās knees,2 he pleaded at his feet, he begged for his young life, for his sanguine hopes; he called to mind the joy in Abrahamās house, he called to mind the sorrow and the loneliness. Then Abraham raised the boy up and walked with him, taking his hand, and his words were full of consolation and exhortation. But Isaac could not understand him. He climbed Mount Moriah, but Isaac did not understand him. Then he turned away from him for a moment, but when Isaac looked upon Abrahamās countenance for the second time, it was transformed: the look in his eyes was wild, his form one of terror. He seized Isaac by the breast, threw him to the ground, and said: āFoolish boy, do you think I am your father? I am an idolater. Do you think this is Godās command? No, it is my desire.ā Then Isaac trembled, and in his anguish he cried out: āGod in heaven, have mercy on me, God of Abraham, have mercy on meāif I have no father on earth, then you be my father!ā But Abraham said softly to himself: āLord in heaven, I thank you; it is after all better that he believe me to be a monster than that he should lose faith in you.
---
From that day forth, Abraham was old, he could not forget that God had required this of him. Isaac throve as he had before; but Abrahamās eye was darkened, he saw joy no more.
---
He could not comprehend that it was a sin to have been willing to sacrifice to God the best he possessed, that for which he would gladly have laid down his life many times; and if it was a sin, if he hadnāt loved Isaac like this, then he could not understand that it could be forgiven: for what sin could be more frightful than this?
---
But Abraham prepared everything for the sacrifice, calmly and gently, but when he turned aside and drew the knife, Isaac then saw that Abrahamās left hand was clenched in despair, that a shudder went through his bodyābut Abraham drew the knife.
Then they returned home, and Sarah hastened to meet them, but Isaac had lost the faith. Never in the world was there said a word about it, and Isaac never spoke to anyone about what he had seen, and Abraham did not suspect that anyone had seen it.
- SĆøren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling
i have obtained a new favourite guy, that is, kierkegaard. god i cannot believe i have not read him sooner
pages from a gradual, circle of girolamo dai libri; ink, tempera, and gold on parchment; italian c. 1520.
the liturgical book known simply as a āgradualā was the principal choir book used during the mass. they were produced in multiple volumes, sometimes as many as 12, in order to cover the entire liturgical year. (via The Cleveland Museum)
Ā© Kristina Feldhammer (Krist Mort)
source
I think Odysseus is the guy everyone else makes talk to the cops when they show up to bust the party.
I think he could do a really good āHello officer, how are you?ā if he had to.
YEAH EXACTLY
Athena is standing behind him whispering the bylaws into his ear.
hold on i need to look this up
itās been 15 minutes have you finished reading the Odyssey yet?

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Dead Lamb by Kristina Kikhno
The skull of Maria Domin, c. 1823. The Charnel House a.k.a. āBone Houseā in St. Michaelās Chapel in Halstatt, Austria
source