uridewellbutudontkissnicelyatall

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coffee from my lil coffee station

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🕰 Sir John Soane’s Museum, London

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The Kelpie by Herbert James Draper

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God I miss the days when you could show up to a stranger’s farm and he’d say “What’s your name, boy?” and you’d take off your hat and hold it to your chest to better let him see your face and reply “Why I ain’t got none, sir, on account of my mammy passed on before she could give me one” and he’d tell you he’s real damn sorry to hear that and ask what he can do you for and you’d tell him that you can’t read nor even write neither but you’re mighty good with horses and can mend them fallen fence posts what you saw on your way in and won’t ask for nothing much more than a hot meal and a warm barn to sleep in and he’d keep his wife and daughters inside but send his boy who ain’t got married yet even though his mama tells him he needs a woman out with a lantern and some stew at night and the two of you’d get to talkin and he’d throw you his flask to take a swig from and watch you drinkin from it while he leant against the door frame and when he finally got called back on up to the house again he’d take a sip from it too real slow-like like it weren’t the whiskey what he were tryna savour

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faulkner would have done crazy numbers on here like hashtag only girl mutuals will get this

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darl + jewel, as I lay dying

after abel, dante émile/ as i lay dying, william faulkner/ cain and abel, orazio riminaldi/ antigonick, anne carson/ you are jeff, richard siken

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When William Faulkner said,

"Perhaps they were right putting love into the books, perhaps love could not live anywhere else."

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Draw badly. Write nonsensically. Embroider messily. Burn what you bake and cook. Get paint everywhere. Read half a book. Lose your mind for a bit. Plant things. Have faith in the process. Abandon 70 wood-carving projects. Get a kit and do some of it and never return to it. Get comfortable with sucking and losing motivation. Continue to create with reckless abandon.

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Ophelia by Jean-Baptiste Bertrand (1872)

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Artist: Artem Demura

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they danced to the crickets slowing song by light beyond the frame

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@academia-lucifer

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@academia-lucifer

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“Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.”

—Jim Morrison