Jane Seymour arriving at the opening of the Emanuel shop at Beauchamp Place, London, dressed as the Wicked Lady (1987)

mia wasikowska + period drama roles

When the last living thing dies, my job is finished. I’ll put the chairs on tables, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave.

DRACULA (1931) dir. Tod Browning THE MUMMY’S HAND (1940) dir. Christy Cabanne CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON (1954) dir. Jack Arnold

masks and helmets that hides someone's face in such a way that they become the face themselves my beloved

these are all creatures to me

the deification of Psyche

currently thinking about: this photo of richard sandells kissing the eros statue in piccadilly circus as part of an outrage kiss-in protest against the prosecution of gay people showing affection in public.

Collection of lachrymatorys (or lachrymosas), these tear catchers or tear vials - sometimes worn on a necklace, sometimes merely held - were used to gather the tears wept by mourners at funerals, to hold the tears of people mourning the passing of loved ones. One type of lachrymosa had a special top which allowed the tears to evaporate (signifying the time to stop mourning), others had a sealed top to allow the tears to last for a year, at which point they would be poured on the grave of the person whom the tears were wept for, Victorian era, 19th Century.

i write my dead name in my father’s obituary. i don’t even think about it.

my dead name doesn’t feel like such a dead name while i’m standing next to my dad’s corpse.

i don’t feel bad about writing my dead name in my dead dad’s obituary. what does it matter which name my dad used to call me when he can’t call me anything anymore.

in this moment, i don’t give a fuck about what my gender is or isn’t. what people think it is or isn’t.

there are some things that are alive, and i am one of them.

and there are some things that are dead.

— Ollie Schminkey, from "i write my dead name in my father’s obituary," Dead Dad Jokes

Even as I stood there this looked fictional.

Alan Kingwell - Winter’s Warmth

Dolce & Gabbana / Fall 2020

Eclipse of the Sun in Venice in July 8, 1842 by Ippolito Caffi.

The Angel of Death, sculpture of a funeral gondola, Venice. Photo by Paolo Monti, 1951.

yeah i will not partake in the societal habit of fearing getting older. each new year you get is a blessing so jot that down