Frankly I’m a bit personally offended no one is spooning me right now?

I’m seeing Valenina Lisitsa on Saturday. I’m writing her a prelude and I don’t care how embarrassing it is.

"From the street below" | Alexander Sevda-Hess, 15 Sept. 2014

(Source: allegroinquieto)

laclefdescoeurs:

Shepherdess, 1889, Elliott Daingerfield

(via blackapplesgarden)

fleurdulys:

The Expiation - Emile Friat

1908

Alexander Sevda-Hess, 14 Sept. 2014

(Source: allegroinquieto)

I pull another key from my throat—
this fragile body of touch and taste
cuts them in thousands,
and thousands lay wasted
at my feet.

I am without shape, all outline,
and would part with even that
for the promise of a door.

a.s.h.

(Source: allegroinquieto)

rickstevensart:

Act of Light | oil on linen | 20 x 14” | 2014 | Rick Stevens Aspen Series

(via leadingtone)

Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket // James Whistler // 19th Century

(Source: sleepypit, via martyred)

leadingtone:

Richard Strauss
Oboe Concerto, Op. 144 (1945)
I. Allegro moderato
II. Andante
III. Vivace

Marin Tenev
Orchester der Trossingen Musikhochschule
Sebastian Tewinkel, cond.

fleurdulys:

Yvonne Printemps on the Sofa - Edouard Vuillard

~1921

I’m wearing two sweaters out today, and anyone who says otherwise can kiss my cardigan.

(Source: allegroinquieto)

Recollection of Veysel

My patience goes yet unrewarded—
for years I call myself, “Myself,”
with no response;
neither from man, nor animal, nor weed—
and if not, it seems my name is but a name,
my solitude dishonest.

     Thus I am afraid of everything—
     of every love, of every woman;
     to be enamored of anything
     is to turn to honey in the gut
     of some vagabond bee,
     or dust in the lungs of another,
     coughed and spat upon the road.

So I become instead a desert place,
occupied solely by distraught lovers
who carve love-letters across my stones;
until, with leaves run shriveled, roses wilted,
fingers withered with arthritic homesickness,
I discover a ghost in the distance
(the possibility of myself);
and, like a jilted child,
abandon him there,
far beyond existence.

a.s.h.

(Source: allegroinquieto)

solar-aestheticss:

Denis Forkas Kostromitin

(Source: ella-luci-bel, via martyred)

fleurdulys:

Spring Landscape - Arthur Wesley Dow

1892