musicwordscolourslights reblogged
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
Autumn at Lenin Hills. Photo postcard by A. Bogdanov (1962).
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
"In the Riga city park", postcard by A. Pletnyov (1962)
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
There’s a line I read once, by an Egyptian poet whose name I cannot remember: that a diary’s function is not to show you who you are, but who it is you have ceased to be.
— Sean Michaels, Do You Remember Being Born: A Novel (Astra House, September 5, 2023)
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
"Yellow field" oil, canvas 60x45cm Artist Mishel Alekyan, Armenia
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
Johann Besse, Water reflection from the “Echoes” photography series, 2019
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
Faraway views (right lens of my binoculars)
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
Hiroki Kawanabe, “Deep Thought”, 2023 Acrylic on Paper, 18cm ×13.5cm
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
Rebecca Zwanzig
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
Gordon Mortensen (b. 1938), Meadows Ridge, Woodcut on Paper
The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.
- Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
Source: instagram.com
He'd outgrown his childhood home, but in the back of his mind, the unexamined assumption was that it would still be there. Changed, maybe. Grown a little older. But there.
- James S.A. Corey
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
📽: Her (2013)
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
SUZUME NO TOJIMARI
Dir. Makoto Shinkai | 2022
“Divine Gods who dwell beneath this land. You have long protected us for generations. Your mountains and rivers, that we have long called our own. I return them to you.”
musicwordscolourslights reblogged
Yesterday I almost cried because my baby cousin ran up to my grandmother and was like. “Ha! Buhbuh ba ha.” And she said okay you want to show me something? And he led her over to the garden patch and crouched down and pointed at rocks and plants and was like. “Ah. Habah ba ah” as she listened attentively.
And I was like that happened 1,000 years ago. Probably 10,000 years ago. Maybe 100,000. The youngest human in a group went to the oldest one and said to the best of their ability “come see.” And the adult went.