Mid-afternoon sun, poem and art page by me, kiidkeroscene.
Drawn and highlighted under blue/green lights
The mid-afternoon sun is warm against my skin,
But her touch, her fingers gracing my jawline,
Her gaze, eyes like hazelnut and coffee,
Taking in my sight,
Her heart, full, intertwined with mine,
Her lips, brushing against my cheek,
Are warmer.
“Stand Proud” vs “STONE OCEAN” Father and daughter parallel
HOWL in HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE | ハウルの動く城 2004 • dir. Hayao Miyazaki
It starts as a spark, a flicker. It start as a glimpse. For only a moment, the darkness is seized. For only a moment.
Then
Another strike of the match and the room bursts into flames.
Ever corner. Every crevice. Light spreads like a disease.
It's cool, touchable almost- at first. It dances atop your fingertips.
You could extinguish it easily, a simple breath could end it. You should blow it out now.
And then it is warm.
It is the heat of a summer's day. Next it is the steam of a kettle. Within seconds it is the flame of candle.
And then it's the sun.
It burns everything it touches, dressing you in charcoal, leaving you steaming.
Destruction.
Damage.
You opened that window and that fire spread. Sucked out into the fresh air. The cool air.
You should have blown it out.
You can't take back the burns. The scars. The pain. You can't take back the fire.
You can't take back the heat.
Weird choker with anatomical heart // UglinessWarehouse
Me watching this when I was six like “sure hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me
achilles will be like “i know a spot” then drag your lifeless body around the walls of troy
RENÉ MAGRITTE / THE PORTRAIT / 1935 [oil on canvas | 28 7/8 x 19 7/8″]