esterparussini - Tumblr blog

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“Spring Flowers” by Stanislav Zhukovsky (1911)

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“Daghestan cognac.” Photo from a Wines of Russia ad booklet from 1970s.

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The battle to own (and love) one of America’s most famous elephants.

Sanctuary.

The newest incredible true story from The Atavist.

#animals #elephants #pets #longreads

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Source

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Polesden Lacey gardener's cottage and garden. (@wander_linaa IG)

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Grindhouse and Adult Theatres: Fascinating snapshots of New York’s old 42nd street from the late 1980s to early 1990s.

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Gardens in the United States in the 1910s.

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Photos of Lola Lane from between the 1920s and 1940s.

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Linda Hogan, from Dark. Sweet.: New & Selected Poems; “Fat"

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Linda Hogan, from Dark. Sweet.: New & Selected Poems; “Watch me"

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there are literally social medias ive never even heard of in the list of the new "no promotion of the competition" rule on Twitter and yet Tumblr is not one of them like... those rumors that the website died post-porn really keep saving our asses over and over again huh

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I made a baby blanket for a pregnant woman at work and I went back and forth about it like “is this weird? To like hand make something for someone when we’re like friendly acquaintances not like bffs. God why are you so fucking awkward.” Anyway I gave it to her and she said she loved it and in the back of my head I’m like yea she’s nice and probably just humoring the weirdo. Well she texted me a picture this weekend of a scrunchy faced newborn at the hospital wrapped in the blanket I made her. And I’m like. Wow. She loved it so much she took it with her! To the hospital! To give birth! She wrapped her newborn it! I am just so filled with love and joy right now.

People will love the things you make them. Because you thought of them and you cared.

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i call my parents and say ‘yeah i can’t do family stuff tonight, i got too much stuff to do for school’ and i e-mail my professor and say ‘i can’t do my assignments tonight, work got crazy’ and i text my boss and say ‘sorry i can’t work late tonight, i gotta some family stuff’ and through this triangulation of deceitful excuses i at last will be free