Stara prawda w księgach leży ("Old truth lies in books"), Marian Wawrzeniecki, 1910.
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Old Man's Death, C. 1890s
László Mednyánszky
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Princess Tarakanova
1864 by Konstantin Dmitrievich Flavitsky
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Dante and Virgil— William-Adolphe Bouguereau ✧*:・゚
Cold and wretched yearning, a violent upheaval
Ravenous accumulation, arteries flowing and folding open
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My eyes saw nothing but darkness ahead of me…my ears heard shrieks and my arms felt constant violent tugging of cold hands that desperately tried to drag me into the water with them. The stench of rotting corpses filled my nose.. i couldn’t move… somehow, i knew i was riding the river styx to my doom.
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“i love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. i love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lies darkly in my body. i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.”
— pablo neruda (xvii)
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Do you recognize me?
(High res pics below)
So a couple years back I made this project called The Plague, about self-loathing. And I pictured it as these remaining residents in a city abandoned because of a plague, carrying their various mutations that are related to their self hatred, brought out by the plague.
I want to pick it up and adds more to it, so here it is.
The Plague. Continued.
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