R.Tanaka - From the series " No trace of Mr. Braeckman"
http://rafamonzo.tumblr.com / http://tanaka-clan.tumblr
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Laerryn Coramar-Seelie, the Architect Arcane
A silent lament about a long ago lost friend, but always in her memory.
Love all the Ring of Brass so much, I just cant withstand them being hurt. ExU pls be merciful ;_;
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Self-Portrait as Damaged Goods
by Logan February
You know, I was a muse once,
but let’s not begin with history.
Or anatomy, in fact.
These organs have been bartered
endlessly, going from hand to hand
to mouth and lingering between teeth–
this body, broken more times than the bone
that resides within, each time
a different person’s communion.
I am the shriveled hallelujah
that never leaves the mouth.
Something blessed, a kiss goodbye
with lips the color of a fresh bruising.
No, let’s not start here. Not with anatomy.
The true beginning is with language.
I am common noun, boy, obsessed
with accumulating adjectives
that translate to sad.
I am lost somewhere in the translation.
My heart is a place with no native tongue.
Look at that, we’re back again at anatomy.
My body begs to be known. Charted.
Let’s try geography because I need
to escape. I am badlands, red dust, war-torn.
I am torn. I am torn. It comes back to the body,
cerebral shrine with no goddess. An emptiness.
I am obsessed with not existing in flesh
because two shades of smoke collided
and gave birth to me, this nameless thing.
All body and no soul— a seething brilliance.
No, let’s not begin here.
No, let’s not begin with the body.
No, let’s not begin at all.
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I can’t even imagine how painful it must have been for Stede to come home and see that life had easily continued on without him. He left the world of piracy because he felt that he didn’t belong, that he had ruined all the parts of it he had touched, and that he had hurt his loved ones.
So he goes home to what’s familiar, to where he thinks he might have some sort of belonging…only to find that everything happily went on without him. That his portrait was painted over. That his son had forgotten him.
Like, in that moment, he has nothing. No crew, no love, no family, no belonging. The last little bit of familiarity he had is now foreign to him. What he knows doesn’t even know him anymore.
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R.Tanaka - From the series " No trace of Mr. Braeckman"
http://rafamonzo.tumblr.com / http://tanaka-clan.tumblr
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(via super-vintage - all things amazing —)
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Heinrixs portrait does indeed make me a little insane. I love his subtle heterochromia I love his ugly haircut that he's apparently very proud of I love how tired and worn down he looks. Much to say on the topic of his jawline but my favorite part is actually the slight asymmetry (mild facial paresis?) he's got goin on. I love you babyyyyyy
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Costică Acsinte (1897-1984) :: Femeie cu cățel | Woman with a puppy
Colecția Costică Acsinte / Costică Acsinte Archive
Costică Acsinte (sometimes spelled Axinte) was a Romanian war photographer who, after discharge, opened a studio in Slobozia, IL.
Digitizing Acsinte's glass plate negatives, a project supported by Asociația Culturală Atelierele Albe and Muzeul Județean Ialomița. Project website
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