"Have You Ever Had That Feeling—that You'd Like To Go To A Whole Different Place And Become A Whole

did you know that a physicist (Boltzmann) has his equation engraved on his tombstone? what is physics, if not poetry? who are physicists, if not poets explaining the working of the universe lyrically?

The Middle

I wrote and illustrated this story as a birthday present for my partner, I hope you enjoy it!

The Gates in June – Fritz Wildhagen / June in the Austrian Tyrol, John MacWhirter / A Month of First Crushes, Schuyler Peck @schuylerpeck / Flaming June, Frederic Leighton / June, Frederick Seidel / Evening, Joseph Brodsky / Romance, Arthur Rimbaud / June, Florence and the Machine / Sonnet XL, Pablo Neruda / Watermelon Sugar, Harry Styles / The Blacksmith, Arthur Rimbaud / Diaries, 1914-1923, Franz Kafka

I bound my first book! It was so much fun and I plan on making more as gifts for my family. The stitching is a little wonky, and I cheated on some of the smaller pages but I love how it turned out! I learned so much about books and how they are made from @sealemon 's YouTube channel. Please check out her content!

Here's the first spread I've done:

I hope to fill the whole book with journal spreads based on my favourite quotes, books, and songs. I love @olivebreezy 's blog, it's full of beautiful journal spreads and great inspiration!

women in stem. women in root. women in leaf.

Breathe in the sweetness that hovers in August.

sylvia plath // @thisherelight // raymond carver // @fortuneaday // zoë lianne // mary oliver // emily bronte // taylor swift; via @tayricochets // carole king // @deadwatered // eileen myles; via @unchildhood // kent nerburn // sara baume // claude monet

the one thing thing funnier than this caption is that the only reason they stopped doing it was that the ferret shit in the tube

Hey remember when they found over 200 bodies of native children buried behind a residential school and the world cared for... what, a week?

They've counted about 6,000-7,000 now, for those of you who do still care

( via )

“there are, on this planet alone, something like two million naturally occurring sweet things, some with names so gorgeous as to kick the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon, stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks at the market. Think of that. The long night, the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah. But look; my niece is running through a field calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel and at the end of my block is a basketball court. I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring.”

— Ross Gay, excerpt of “Sorrow Is Not My Name”, in Bringing the Shovel Down