CINDERELLA (1950)
dir. wilfred jackson, hamilton luske and clyde geronimi

if i look back, i am lost
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
ojovivo
RMH
will byers stan first human second
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
noise dept.
macklin celebrini has autism
official daine visual archive
Cosimo Galluzzi

Love Begins
art blog(derogatory)
$LAYYYTER

shark vs the universe
Fai_Ryy
🪼
NASA
d e v o n
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@vital-information
CINDERELLA (1950)
dir. wilfred jackson, hamilton luske and clyde geronimi

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Harpy by Edvard Munch
El espíritu de la colmena, 1973 Dir. Víctor Erice
風と木の詩 (Kaze to Ki no Uta) - Keiko Takemiya
ever since I was a little girl I knew I wanted to be into shit no one cares about

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Hagio Moto – Zankokuna Kamisama ga Shihai suru
does anyone know if it’s possible
ok good I was getting worried
in the club asking the dj to play the plagues from the prince of egypt
I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture. All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line? The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy? Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess. I want the fat left it. I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence. Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."

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Every time you go in a public place and something ISN’T disgusting it’s because somebody cleaned it. Every time you feel comfortable using a public bathroom or sitting at a restaurant table or setting something on a gas station counter or playing on a playground it’s because somebody cleaned it.
Thank you to everyone who cleans the world, especially those who are underpaid and under appreciated.
Getting high on open window air
I will get my spark back no matter how long it takes
people on here are always saying “we NEED a story where the art of storytelling is abandoned” like ugh literary devices are soo annoying like that wouldn’t happen in real life that only happened to further the story (why is there story in my story) why would orpheus turn around when he was explicitly told not to why would icarus fly so close to the sun romeo&juliet catcher in the rye why are they so earnest why pour your heart and soul into anything why bother why cant all art be quippy logical monotony like my marvel movies there’s a void in my heart bc i refused to fill it and the curtains were blue
“i hate poetry its so pretentious” but then you reblog a quote or a throwaway line and say “why does this go so hard” you are desperate for poetry you are starved for it and u dont even realise you’re hungry
oh someone told me something useful yesterday. she said she’s been thinking about her tbr less as an overwhelming list of books she Must Read and more like she’s cultivating a wine cellar. making a rich collection that will provide the perfect thing when needed. a bottle will get uncorked when the time is right

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Sometimes wild attraction shit happens when you learn to separate masc/fem from man/woman. I’ve known queer women find the femininity in a man attractive. I’ve known gay men get so hot and bothered by the masculinity of a woman.
There was once a guy who was not really my type but then he did drag and was suddenly wildly attractive to me. And since I’m bisexual it doesn’t give me a crisis when someone is suddenly hot to me in an unconventional way. I used to think this was particularly a bi experience.
Then I’ve met plenty of gay men and lesbians who are also chill about that sort of thing. Sometimes life is like that “oops made out with a twink in Brighton who turned out to be a lesbian who thought I was a lesbian” and sometimes it’s like “hey, I’m not normally into men but this guy has got something hot going on.”