I Want To Paint Mermaids Like That And Make Art That Has Real Spirit Again :( When Can I Finally Go Home

a new spring

― Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart

I’ve definitely gotten stupider but I can definitely rebuild my brain. No more goop . No more suicidal goop

Ok men are nothing ready to be a beautiful competent Anne of green gables type angel again. I can do everything all by me self

type shit

Bwaa there’s life drawing tmr but I kinda want to draw my grandmas bleeding heart flowers

Melancholy (1876) by Odilon Redon

readings: essays, articles & short stories pt. 2

the winter of civilisation

fruits we'll never taste, languages we'll never hear: the need for needless complexity

emily dickinson and the creative solitude of space

the lost art of looking at nature

the bowl, the ram and the folded map: navigating the complicated world

ada limón on preparing the body for a reopened world

before it was 'bittersweet', nostalgia was seen as a parasite

why alien languages could be far stranger than we imagine

the fig leaf, benjamin shane evans

cat pianos, sound-houses, and other imaginary musical instruments

of shark moves, shell shocks, and trash landings on the moon

as bright as a feather — ostriches, home dyeing, and the global plume trade

getting ahead, jonas karlsson

do these florida dolphins have a language?

the form of a demon and the heart of a person: kitagawa utamaro's prints of yamauba and kintarō (ca. 1800)

who needs ai text-generation when there's erasmus of rotterdam

when memories from fiction become part of who you are

how do transgender people remember their earlier selves?