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saintmaudes · 15 hours ago
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“Queen of ancient days, queen of days to come, bride of dead hearts,”
— Iwan Gilkin, from “Litanies and Prayer,” written c. February 1885
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saintmaudes · 16 hours ago
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saintmaudes · 17 hours ago
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“I remembered once, in Japan, having been to see the Gold Pavilion Temple in Kyoto and being mildly surprised at quite how well it had weathered the passage of time since it was first built in the fourteenth century. I was told it hadn’t weathered well at all, and had in fact been burnt to the ground twice in this century. “So it isn’t the original building?” I had asked my Japanese guide. “But yes, of course it is,” he insisted, rather surprised at my question. “But it’s been burnt down?” “Yes.” “Twice?” “Many times.” “And rebuilt.” “Of course. It is an important and historic building.” “With completely new materials.” “But of course. It was burnt down.” “So how can it be the same building?” “It is always the same building.” I had to admit to myself that this was in fact a perfectly rational point of view, it merely started from an unexpected premise. The idea of the building, the intention of it, its design, are all immutable and are the essence of the building. The intention of the original builders is what survived. The wood of which the design is constructed decays and is replaced when necessary. To be overly concerned with the original materials, which are merely sentimental souvenirs of the past, is to fail to see the living building itself.”
— Douglas Adams (via valarhalla)
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saintmaudes · 18 hours ago
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skylines and turnstiles - mcr / saint sebastian - antiguo de lisboa / flectcher sibthorp
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saintmaudes · 19 hours ago
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you should see me in a crown
luisa max-ehrlerová, telegram (1894)
caravaggio, saint catherine of alexandria (1598-99)
bartolomeo cavarozzi, virgin and child with angels (1618-22)
piero di cosimo, simonetta vespucci (1480-90)
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saintmaudes · a day ago
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“Love transforms one into what one loves.”
— St. Catherine of Siena
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saintmaudes · a day ago
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Trevor Paglen, They Watch the Moon, 2010.
“This photograph depicts a classified ‘listening station’ deep in the forests of West Virginia.
The station is located at the center of the National Radio Quiet Zone, a region of approximately 34,000 square kilometers in West Virginia and parts of Maryland.
Within the Quiet Zone, radio transmissions are severely restricted: omnidirectional and high-powered transmissions (such as wireless internet devices and FM radio stations) are not permitted.
The listening station, which forms part of the global ECHELON system, was designed in part to take advantage of a phenomenon called moonbounce.
Moonbounce involves capturing communications and telemetry signals from around the world as they escape into space, hit the moon, and are reflected back towards Earth.
The photograph is a long exposure under the full moon light.”
Via conscientious, via likeafieldmouse
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saintmaudes · a day ago
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“When a dead tree falls in a forest it often falls into the arms of a living tree. The dead, thus embraced, rasp in wind, slowly carving a niche in the living branch, shearing away the rough outer flesh, revealing the pinkish, yellowish, feverish inner bark. For years the dead tree rubs its fallen body against the living, building its dead music, making its raw mark, wearing the tough bough down as it moans and bends, the deep rosined bow sound of the living shouldering the dead.”
— Dorianne Laux, “Cello,” Facts About the Moon (W. W. Norton & Co., 2007)
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saintmaudes · a day ago
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The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947) dir. Joseph L. Mankiewicz
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saintmaudes · a day ago
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Whale Shark Gliding Through Bioluminiscent Algae _ Mike Nulty
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saintmaudes · 2 days ago
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It’s weird to grow up in a family where you know you’re loved but you don’t feel loved. And then later in adulthood you understand how almost impossible it seems to cross that distance and let yourself experience closeness, how otherworldly love feels now and how love feels unbearable at times. You flinch when someone tries to wholeheartedly love you. And over and over you see so clearly how you cannot be loved unless it's from afar and love is mixed with that familiar sensation of distance and coldness.
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saintmaudes · 2 days ago
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!!!!???!!!!!!!!!!
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saintmaudes · 2 days ago
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Mary Shelley, from “The Mortal Immortal,” written c. December 1833
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saintmaudes · 2 days ago
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—Kitchen Mckeown, from Outbreaks
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saintmaudes · 2 days ago
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nothing more depressing than when a piece of media has a really specific+really good premise but handles it fucking horribly, thus wasting it while also guaranteeing that no one will ever create the same thing Except Good
#:/
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saintmaudes · 3 days ago
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saintmaudes · 3 days ago
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Bits of botanical horror
During the new moon, the well gives us blood. It’s the only thing the roots in Grandmother’s garden will eat anymore. It clots in the irrigators, even at full spray. I used to only have to clean them every week or two, now I do it daily.
- Grandmother’s Garden, Kitty Horrorshow
But as the arms tightened, there was the sound of sharp splintering and the birch into which the axe had bitten toppled. It struck the ground directly behind the wrestling men. Its branches seemed to reach out and clutch at the feet of Polleau’s son. (…) –and over its tumult he heard the roar of the great forest:
“Kill! Kill!”
- The Women of The Wood, Abraham Merritt
He was lying, face upward, at the foot of the strange orchid. The tentacle-like aerial rootlets no longer swayed freely in the air, but were crowded together, a tangle of grey ropes, and stretched tight, with their ends closely applied to his chin and neck and hands. She did not understand. Then, she saw from one of the exultant tentacles upon his cheek there trickled a little thread of blood.
- The Flowering of the Strange Orchid, H.G. Wells
The wolf told the woodcutter how the Wood hated him, for slashing and mangling its branches, day after day, year after year, cutting, chopping, and hacking at the flesh of the trees with his axe. And so as punishment, the Wood had taken his daughter.
- Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery, Jim McDoniel, Jessica Best, Jessica Wright Buha & Bilal Dardai 
So, with grim determination and with the skill that years of experiment have given me, I grafted a stem of this carnivorous plant to my upper left arm. (…)The original flower resembled a lily somewhat, so I was not surprised at the new lily that finally materialized. But I did wince when I discovered that the opening of the lily was a perfect replica of a boneless human mouth.
- The Moaning Lily, Emma Vane
She was out in the garden when I found her. Out in the rose garden, in her long nightgown. Lying on her stomach. I thought she was dead. She looked dead. Her lips were blue. I touched her hand, it was cold. There were rose-vines growing over her ankles. In loops, thick, covered in thorns. Her ankles were bleeding down onto the ground.
- Mabel, Becca De La Rosa & Mabel Martin
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