Tumgik
pressedwallflower · 28 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Grave of the Fireflies 火垂るの墓 (1988)
dir.Isao Takahata
496 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Monster 怪物 (2023) | Dir. Koreeda Hirokazu
380 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
sea, swallow me
81K notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 3 months
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Girl in the Sunny Place (2013)
22 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
From All of Us Strangers (2023); dir. Andrew Haigh
336 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Stills from Passages (2023); dir. Ira Sachs
16 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 3 months
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
@pscentral event 16: pride colors @userdramas event 07: identity
Meeting you and spending time with you makes me enjoy my life again after a long time. What should we eat next time? What should I do with you? Just the thought of being with you makes me happy.
OUR DINING TABLE 僕らの食卓 2023
449 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Stills from The Virgin Suicides (1999), dir. Sofia Coppola
58 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 4 months
Text
An Introduction
I don't know politics but I know the names Of those in power, and can repeat them like Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru. I am Indian, very brown, born in Malabar, I speak three languages, write in Two, dream in one. Don't write in English, they said, English is not your mother-tongue. Why not leave Me alone, critics, friends, visiting cousins, Every one of you? Why not let me speak in Any language I like? The language I speak, Becomes mine, its distortions, its queernesses All mine, mine alone. It is half English, half Indian, funny perhaps, but it is honest, It is as human as I am human, don't You see? It voices my joys, my longings, my Hopes, and it is useful to me as cawing Is to crows or roaring to the lions, it Is human speech, the speech of the mind that is Here and not there, a mind that sees and hears and Is aware. Not the deaf, blind speech Of trees in storm or of monsoon clouds or of rain or the Incoherent mutterings of the blazing Funeral pyre. I was child, and later they Told me I grew, for I became tall, my limbs Swelled and one or two places sprouted hair. When I asked for love, not knowing what else to ask For, he drew a youth of sixteen into the Bedroom and closed the door, He did not beat me But my sad woman-body felt so beaten. The weight of my breasts and womb crushed me. I shrank Pitifully. Then… I wore a shirt and my Brother's trousers, cut my hair short and ignored My womanliness. Dress in sarees, be girl, Be wife, they said. Be embroiderer, be cook, Be a quarreller with servants. Fit in. Oh, Belong, cried the categorizers. Don't sit On walls or peep in through our lace-draped windows.
Be Amy, or be Kamala. Or, better Still, be Madhavikutty. It is time to Choose a name, a role. Don't play pretending games. Don't play at schizophrenia or be a Nympho. Don't cry embarrassingly loud when Jilted in love… I met a man, loved him. Call Him not by any name, he is every man Who wants a woman, just as I am every Woman who seeks love. In him… the hungry haste Of rivers, in me… the oceans' tireless Waiting. Who are you, I ask each and everyone, The answer is, it is I. Anywhere and, Everywhere, I see the one who calls himself I; in this world, he is tightly packed like the Sword in its sheath. It is I who drink lonely Drinks at twelve, midnight, in hotels of strange towns, It is I who laugh, it is I who make love And then, feel shame, it is I who lie dying With a rattle in my throat. I am sinner, I am saint. I am the beloved and the Betrayed. I have no joys which are not yours, no Aches which are not yours. I too call myself I.
—Kamala Das, Summer in Calcutta (1965)
2 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Stills from Joyland (2022); dir. Saim Sadiq
[4/4]
0 notes
pressedwallflower · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Stills from Joyland (2022), dir. Saim Sadiq
[3/4]
0 notes
pressedwallflower · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Stills from Joyland (2022), dir. Saim Sadiq
[2/4]
1 note · View note
pressedwallflower · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Stills from Joyland (2022), dir. Saim Sadiq
[1/4]
1 note · View note
pressedwallflower · 5 months
Photo
“We are used to seeing death as a scary and threatening figure in all black. Perhaps what we believe comes after death is what causes us to see it in a depressive and pessimistic way, or we may be afraid of losing the chance of having another day with what we know and love in this life.”
Once one realizes that the scene depicts the death of a baby, it may get sad and maybe a bit uneasy. But as we examine it more carefully, we see that along with sadness, there is a certain type of calmness and comfort. The mother of the baby clutches it as she looks directly at death with angry eyes. While we can understand her anger and sadness, the general tone of the painting and Death's demeanor assures us that everything is alright.”
“The fact that Death's bare feet touch the ground shows that she is one with nature. She is a part of this hopeful environment. Furthermore, the way she holds her sickle to the ground and bends over to the baby suggests that she is there to do what nature intends rather than to attack and harm.”
Excepts from Zehra Kabak's commentary on a refreshing view on death in Janis Rozentāls' Nāve (1897).
Tumblr media
JANIS ROZENTALS - DEATH (1897)
18 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Self-portrait with cropped hair, Frida Kahlo (1940)
11 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Oda Kazuma - Catching Whitebait at Nakaumi, Izumo (1924)
242 notes · View notes
pressedwallflower · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"The immense sea and the sky above, our uniforms, our clumsy adolescent enthusiasm...If I had to choose a colour for all of these past things, I'd choose a deep blue."
Blue (2002), dir. Hiroshi Ando.
217 notes · View notes