Latest Posts by cosmonautgalinaofficial - Page 3

made some (completely unnecessary but totally charming) gifs for my botany final, i chose to do a research project on defense mechanisms in plants!!

Dark Academia aesthetics for science subjects

Physics

Chewed lips and fingernails. Coffee rings on your desk, and books, and pages. A sparrow pauses at your windowsill - it turns to you, and you have the strangest feeling that it understands something that you cannot. The atoms around you seem to communicate. Your eyelashes flutter, your fingers are stained. Who are you. What is this. What is this.

Astronomy

Lying on cobblestone in loose, flowey clothing. Your hands are cold, but something inside you burns, quietly - in your sternum, in your gut, behind your eyes, behind your teeth. Pinpricks of stars on a velvet night, glints of dust on a sun-streak, droplets of rain on a windowsill. All of this, and you, are the same.

Botany

A candle burns on your desk. Scrapbooks are filled with sketches, and pressed flowers, and dried leaves. Vines creep over a stone wall. You drink herbal tea with the bag left in. Tonight you press wax stamps to handwritten letters. You sit and drink the moonlight. You whisper to the plant on your windowsill.

Chemistry

Loose, giddy laughter. Two friends, shrieking and spinning, alone in a dark hall. Ridiculous, unfeasible ideas. Chicken-scratch notes. Walking the halls of an old university, gothic and dead and alive. You spent hours and hours in the lab, so consumed you don’t notice the time pass. It’s dark when you step outside. You tremble with excitement. Tomorrow.

Medicine

Macabre diagrams of skulls and human anatomy on yellowed paper. Your journals are cryptic: the scratched cursive look like clues, the symbols, code. Nights and nights and nights spent awake, exhaustion tugging at your clothes and your eyes and your neck, but your mind buzzes with an electric determination that teeters on madness. Clasped hands, and quiet camaraderie.

Veterinary medicine

Untamed grass on a misty morning, embroidered with wildflowers. You wear an old dress, or a white shirt tucked into loose checked trousers. Dew brushes your ankles. Your fingers card gently over fur. A kiss just barely touches skin. Your mind is sharp, but your heart is open. There is a breeze through the open window.

Technology

City lights. Ideas that swirl - no, prick at you, fine needle points of inspiration that kiss at the base of your neck, your jaw, your head, and you scramble to turn them into something real. Rusty gears turn on an old watch. A quirked eyebrow. You smell rain on the pavement. 

Psychology

A lone ballerina spins in an abandoned chapel; a streak of white against darkness. Tea in a vintage teacup, spoon left in, on a neat pile of books. Quiet gasps, soft hands and cursive writing. The echo of footsteps. A hand brushes through your hair. A mist rolls in. You think this dawn looks like a dusk.

Marine Biology

Waves heave and undulate, like a great ribcage swelling with breath. You watch it from a lighthouse, blank faced and austere in a long black coat. A small flame of fear quivers in the hollow of your chest. At the old wooden desk, you work.You lick your lips and taste brine.

click here for part 1: (aesthetics for literature, classics, philosophy, fine art, political science, and history)

“Pissenlit” brodé sur tulle sur cerceau de broderie par Velvet Meadow.

klooris - Daughter

Untitled / Expulsion from the Garden (2000). Fred Tomaselli (b.1956, Santa Monica, California). Christie’s • via Bibliothèque Infernale on FB

Journey to the Microcosmos- Midi-chlorians: Our Connection to the Force

Images originally Captured by Jam’s Germs

Gymnocalycium stenopleurum

Orthodox votive oak in Jabłeczna, Podlaskie, Poland.

“The Pipe Nebula” Is the NASA Astronomy Picture of the Day of today, August 07, 2020

“I love you. Infinitely and inexpressibly. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night and here I am writing this. My love, my happiness.” –  Vladimir Nabokov, from a letter to Vera (January 19, 1925), featured in “Letters To Vera” by Vladimir Nabokov (Russian, 1899-1977)

I heard my mother asking our neighbour for some salt. I asked her why she was asking them as we have salt at home. She replied: "It's because they are always asking us for things; they're poor. So, I thought I'd ask something small from them so as not burden them, but at the same time make them feel as if we need them too. That way it'll be easier for them to ask us for anything they need from us.”

Ali al-Jifri

how many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?

— Virginia Woolf

The Lebanese Red Cross updated their donation site so that you would not need to sign up or download an app to donate. Here is the link supportlrc.app/donate to share with others

Most Holy Theotokos pray for us

more here

Dead at 90 - Paul Fusco, RKF New York to Washington funeral train photographer

The early years of Project Freud.

Aerospace Engineering Magazine August 1962

Tallulah Bankhead, 1925

Leningrad, USSR, 1970s

Невский пр к/т Аврора, фотоальбом «Ленинград», 1970-е

pov annoying ghost at your grandmas house

Harry, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.

Kyle MacLachlan & Michael Ontkean | Twin Peaks

anemic peoples blood is jus junk food for vampires

The House When You’re Gone, by Stephen Mackey, via Instagram.

aestheticalspace