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“Another time, later in my life, I was sitting in a restaurant across the street from the New York Shakespeare Festival’s Public Theater. The actors were sitting around a table with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth and an umbrella. The sun was coming in from the shade—it looked like a Renoir painting. There were seven or eight of them, talking. I said to my friend, ‘You see them? I can’t get my eyes off that group.’ It was as though they had existed hundreds of years and you could see their roots, their background, how much like a family they were; how that was something I always wanted… I was drawn to them. Maybe that is what I want… I don’t know.” • Dreamy 1973 photo by Tony Korody.

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body paint

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𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟷 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶-𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹

[ID: I observed that my love had not really grasped her, but only flitted about her, now nearer, now farther. Indeed, it can find no peace. END ID]

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Lars Lerin, Bibliotek, 2009

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Still life with a plate of onions, early January, 1889. Vincent van Gogh. Oil on canvas.

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love

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Close ups from 'We, human race made this structure' 2021, by Aya Takano

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Aya Takano (Japanese, b. 1976)

Yoshi & Meg, on Earth, year 2036, 2002

Offset lithograph in colors on smooth wove paper

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Convenience store, by Aya Takano (2006)

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Smooch, Aya Takano (2006)

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Jungkook Lockscreen 💜

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♡

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♡

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if we live fast, let us die young

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“Real poetry doesn’t say anything, it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through any one that suits you. And that’s why poetry appeals to me so much — because it’s so eternal. As long as there are people, they can remember words and combinations of words. Nothing else can survive a holocaust but poetry and songs.” — Jim Morrison