myobscurityworld

[myobscurityworld]

Reblog this to give your mutual a nice dagger as a present 

[myobscurityworld]

loving me is like watering a dead flower

[myobscurityworld]

some of you need to be decapitated. 

[myobscurityworld]

what doesn't kill you makes you weird at intimacy

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[myobscurityworld]

No filters,please...

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i may be a pervert but i'm a hopeless romantic at heart

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Hold still, I'm trying to read.

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L'amore

@sacroniente

[myobscurityworld]

Loving you was like loving the dead.

[myobscurityworld]

Girls with porn addictions, that have grown up needing increasingly more degrading and abusive porn are so pathetically adorable.

[myobscurityworld]

When she does not find love, she may find poetry. Because she does not act, she observes, she feels, she records; a color, a smile awakens profound echoes within her; her destiny is outside her, scattered in cities already built, on the faces of men already marked by life, she makes contact, she relishes with passion and yet in a manner more detached, more free, than that of a young man. Being poorly integrated in the universe of humanity and hardly able to adapt herself therein, she, like the child, is able to see it objectively; instead of being interested solely in her grasp on things, she looks for their significance; she catches their special outlines, their unexpected metamorphoses. She rarely feels a bold creativeness, and usually she lacks the technique of self-expression; but in her conversation, her letters, her literary essays, her sketches, she manifests an original sensitivity. The young girl throws herself into things with ardor, because she is not yet deprived of her transcendence; and the fact that she accomplishes nothing, that she is nothing, will make her impulses only the more passionate. Empty and unlimited, she seeks from within her nothingness to attain all.

Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex

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Meow

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Do not mistake her shyness as weakness, even the moon hides behind the clouds yet it’s able to move the oceans.

-themindscalligraphy

[myobscurityworld]

[...] we experienced the phenomenon that lovers who are not yet lovers recognise; they are not touching, yet they feel the charge. The space in between is filled with energy. The spark. The dance. The movement.

Jeanette Winterson, Night Side of the River; from ‘No Ghost Ghost Story’

[myobscurityworld]

sleepless nights....but you spend them preparing prints for your admirers...new prints available