Poetry and pondering about myths and books, yearning for space, viktor, he/him
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me: i really dont get why non-floridians lose their fucking shit when they see a beach. it’s just sand and water. who gives a fuck
also me: *sees one (1) mountain* ohohohoohohohohoh holy SHIT holy fuck that’s a big fuCKING ROCK
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‘The Shortest Day’ illustrations by Carson Ellis
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...do little German boy meme enthusiasts even know that our reblog button looks like this-
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hello harrenhal nation. if we're all so "smart" and "genre aware" lets see if you can beat the curse😏
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“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings.”
— Ursula Le Guin
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From the makers of "this meeting could have been an email" we present: this universal moral dictum could have been a personal boundary
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Walter Crane, Francesca, 1902, Colour print from six wood blocks on paper, Victoria & Albert Museum, London
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1994-95 Chechen guerrillas with captured Russian BTR in Grozny,Chechnya.
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Twitter: "we're gonna increase the number of characters per tweet to 4000!"
Tumblr: "you wanna be me so bad and here's a satirical advertising campaign to both capitalise on that and also mock you"
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"St. George and the Dragon – Rivière's depiction of an exhausted St. George lying down beside the slain dragon is a radical departure from the triumphant equestrian position in which this saint is traditionally depicted"
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“I dreamed of you.”
*hits blunt, gracefully toes off Louboutins to drape self over a high balcony overlooking the restless city at dusk, barefoot and wearing a silk slip dress* it is time to be embarassing on main
“I dreamed of you” is an admission of the reawakening of hope. This one single thing combatting full disillusionment with moral fairness, honor, and knightly values due to their systemic corruption. Knights and heroes pillage and rape, and your king burns innocents alive while their protectors standby and watch. What do you do when every vow contradicts another? The violence inherent to this hypocritical system that you find impossible to overcome makes you resort to nihilistically embracing amorality. You become everything that you despise: a genuinely horrid person. Your cynicism has metastasized for two decades. “It is unfixable. It is inevitable,” you tell yourself. In turn, you position yourself above the flawed moral paradigms in your mind because you have been so disillusioned by them. It leaves you wracked by your conscience, and you are trying to be invulnerable to it as a means to cope with and rationalize your moral corruption. If everything is shit, then there is no point in being a better person, right? AND then you have hope, this slight flicker of idealism, rekindled by a single person. A person that truly embodies everything that you wanted to be as a child. Everything that every young boy dreams of becoming: a true knight. One that overcomes the contradictions of knighthood™ instead of becoming corrupted by them despite all of society despising her for it and continuously blocking her path instead of rewarding it. Because that is what being a true knight is. There are no excuses. The dream is no longer fictitious. That is “no chance and no choice.” He dreamed of her.
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“I know that flower of emptiness when the self touches the world in a deep blur and the mind opens and is anything …”
— Stephen Berg, from “In It,” In it: Poems (University of Illinois Press, 1986)
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Phenakistoscope art by Belgian physicist Joseph Plateau, 1987.
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Bernat Martorell c. 1434-1435
Saint George Killing the Dragon (detail)
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Dostoyevski Notes from the Underground
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