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Ingrained

This was done in collaboration with @grozat. It's the first time we're actually posting something like that, but definitely not the least 💚 Nothing compares to the experience of creating a single piece together with your beloved person.

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instagram.com/bonjoursimonleclerc

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Dreaming Hills - Malene Reynolds Laugesen

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Schiaparelli Spring 2024 Haute Couture

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Anders Zorn - Head of a Veiled Woman

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by Gordon Hart

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hi everyone. i love you, i care about you, please make sure to get your ten hours of screentime in today. bump it up to 12 if you can, don't sit any further than two feet from the screen, try to keep blinking to a minimum. if you reach the end of your feed remember to keep refreshing until new content pops up

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front facing egrets making me lose control of everything

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IN SEARCH OF APPROPRIATE IMAGES Mattia Balsamini

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Sometimes

by Mary Oliver

I.

Something came up out of the dark. It wasn’t anything I had ever seen before. It wasn’t an animal or a flower, unless it was both.

Something came up out of the water, a head the size of a cat but muddy and without ears. I don’t know what God is. I don’t know what death is.

But I believe they have between them some fervent and necessary arrangement.

II.

Sometimes melancholy leaves me breathless…

III.

Water from the heavens! Electricity from the source! Both of them mad to create something!

The lighting brighter than any flower. The thunder without a drowsy bone in its body.

IV.

Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.

V. Two or three times in my life I discovered love. Each time it seemed to solve everything. Each time it solved a great many things but not everything. Yet left me as grateful as if it had indeed, and thoroughly, solved everything.

VI.

God, rest in my heart and fortify me, take away my hunger for answers, let the hours play upon my body

like the hands of my beloved. Let the cathead appear again — the smallest of your mysteries, some wild cousin of my own blood probably — some cousin of my own wild blood probably, in the black dinner-bowl of the pond.

VII.

Death waits for me, I know it, around one corner or another. This doesn’t amuse me. Neither does it frighten me.

After the rain, I went back into the field of sunflowers. It was cool, and I was anything but drowsy. I walked slowly, and listened

to the crazy roots, in the drenched earth, laughing and growing.

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"After great pain, a formal feeling comes -- ..."

by Emily Dickinson

After great pain, a formal feeling comes -- The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs -- The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’ And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’? The Feet, mechanical, go round -- A Wooden way Of Ground, or Air, or Ought -- Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone -- This is the Hour of Lead -- Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow -- First -- Chill -- then Stupor -- then the letting go --

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Isabel Quintanilla aka Maribel (Spanish, 1938-2017, b. Madrid, Spain) - Porta Roja (Red Door), 1973, Paintings: Oil on Panel