A Blacksmith’s Dream

every time I see some bigshot scientist revealed as a fraud my knee-jerk reaction is "hell yeah elisabeth bik got 'em good" AND IM RIGHT

SHE NEVER QUITS!!!!

ICONIC!!!!

Clement Gelly, “Graffiti, Through Grief and Discovery”, pub. Hazlitt [transcript in ALT]

it was never gonna work out but i experienced all these seemingly profound unreplicable moments that were romantic and moving and made me feel alive and still none of it actually means anything in the long run. but thats okay. sometimes a beautiful moment is just that. a moment. and you have to leave it alone and just be grateful that it happened. woooow

— Susan Sontag, from “Death Kit,” (1967) (via lunamonchtuna)

I am glad that bee hummingbirds hatch nests of eggs each smaller than a pea. I am glad that there are oceans two miles deep where fishes unknown to science glow like fireflies.

I am glad that the crumbs taken from my bedroom are returned to tiny cities built by ants, and that the thunder of the storms rolling in from the north trembles in my chest when it is still a ways off. Hello, says the world, you are so little. Hello, says the world, you are so big.

my home isn't my home anymore, something's gone wrong along the way

noor hindi dear god. dear bones. dear yellow.: "pledging alliegance" (via @feral-ballad) \\ andrew collins \\ athena nassar, from love is not always song, but the swelling (via @weltenwellen) \\ @holly-warbs \\ yanyi dream of the divided field: poems: "the friend” (via @dactylicreveries) \\ bartosz beda silent interior ii

kofi

you know what, screw falling uncontrollably in love. Nah man. I want to meet your eyes across the room for the first time and start grinning. A slow, spreading smirk. I want to think 'oh, you bastard. I've been waiting for you. Hello.' and I want you to smirk back.

L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

via @/_weloveyou__ on tiktok

you were a touch of lips that breathed air into my stuttering lungs an arm around my shoulders that sparked my fluttering heart a first-aid kit stitching my anger back together a cool press of fingers swiping gentle against the fever and then you were the whisper of a bullet guarding my six the glint of a sniper scope that struck hope, not fear the heavy march of boots always right behind mine

it was you. it was you. it was always you.

and i always knew i would have died a hundred times over without you.

you are echoes in the empty chambers of my heart screams in the air that clamour in my lungs a nightmare repeating like a skipping record you are still seventy years of empty spaces a ghost that still lives and breathes and screams a memory that lingers in my every footstep

i never did learn how to live without you.

and i should have known when my heart stubbornly kept on beating that you were not gone.

- by sylvie (j.p.)