thinking about putting my country’s language pronouns in as well. i don’t expect y’all to use it but i think it would be neat to have my culture shown but not explicitly stated
ngunda - used as she/he/it
nganhung - used as theirs/my/mine
nganhung-gu - as them(directional)
You know what? Fuck you.
*unshrinkies your dinks*
no..... my dinks....
*unskrinkies you*
“Holy shit! I followed this person back in the day on LiveJournal!”
-an actual thing I said about a tumblr interaction in 2023.
Tumblr :
Sniffing glue = gets you high
Glue = made of horses
Sniffing horses = I think we need to do some research!
they will never attack my big and large towers
george w bush and sauron have both said this
where is that renaissance painting with those two fellers and a giant fucking random skull on the floor that looks like it was accidentally stretched out in photoshop
THANK YOU
somebody please explain
Someone once told me it’s like that because it was designed to be hung in a stairwell so the skull pops out as you walk past.
…I guess it works but you have to be at a pretty sharp angle
There was a whole trend at one point where artists would include something in their paintings (usually a skull, for whatever reason) that’s super distorted in just the right way so that it looks normal if you hold the painting up to a convex/concave mirror. I have absolutely no idea why. But I think that’s what’s going on here.
In case anyone’s curious, here’s what it looks like when you walk past it irl:
It does have a 3D effect to it! It’s pretty neat, guess it would be even more impressive to people from the 14th century.
honestly, people just looking at the skull are missing the real deal here
You can read any implied text you see in this thing, even the book, that’s how detailed it is. Look at the painting on those letters!
jesus christ you’re just showing off now, Hans!
HANS OH MY GOD
anyway, the skull apparently had some meaning about the transcendence of death, you can only see it clearly when you can’t see the world clearly and vice versa, but man, I’m all about the detail in this guy’s shit
No, I think you’re missing the real deal here
as an art historian, i think this is the best post on tumblr
People don’t talk enough about how easy it is to sleep in the dirt.
Like at a certain point on a dig day you BECOME THE DIRT.
And then comfy lil cozy crevices where you just dug start ~calling your name~
This is my favorite corner of the internet:
BONUS:
Okay but consider: -Very soft (no rocks at all, just buttery smooth, sifted, light, and fluffy soil -Pesky rocks are on the other side of the dirt pile. Don’t even worry about them. -Usually cool to the touch, even on a hot day -You can just sink into it. Like a snow angel. But dirt. Bliss.
Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.
On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.
And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.
The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy
I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it
Fuck man
the fuck man do i have a tumblr criminal record or some shit ??
