Leila Chatti, from "Postcard from Gone"
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π«π€π«My mom likes Nicole Dollanganger π«π€
She is in her inner tranquility whenever she hears her voice. Usually, mom isn't really fond of most of my playlists. But...
when she says she likes Nicole,
she means it.
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πΏπΎππΆπΈ π
πππ β
‘
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red girl
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βApril is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.β
β T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
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I want Zane Holtz posts to appear on my dashboard often.
(I want to see more Richie Gecko, Henry Winter, Katy Keene... Whatever... Please bless my day when I open my Tumblr.)
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π΅ππ ππ ππ’ πππππ, π’πππ πππππ ππππππ πππππππ ππ’ πππππ ππππ ππ ππππππππ, πππ ππππππ ππ ππ’ ππ‘π’πππ ππ πππππππ πππ ππππππππ ππππ ππππ ππππππ ππ πππππππ. π΅ππ π’ππ ππππ πππππππππ πππ πππππππ ππ’ ππ‘πππππππ ππππ π ππππ πππππππ ππππππ πππ πππππππππ πππ ππππ ππ ππππ π πππ ππ’ πππππ ππππ πππππππ’ πππ π’ππ. πππππππππππ πππ πππππ ππππ π ππ πππππ ππππππ ππ ππππ.
ππππ πππππ πππππ ππππ ππππ ππππ ππππ π ππ πππππ ππππππ π πππ π πππππππ ππ ππππππππ’, π ππππ π’ππ ππππ πππ πππππ’ ππ ππ ππ πππ πππππππ π ππππ π’ππ ππππ ππ’ πππ π πππ ππ ππππππ πππππ’ ππππ ππ π’πππ ππππ. ππππ πππππ π πππππ ππππ ππππππ'π. ππππ ππππππππ πππππ ππππ. πΉπππ π’πππ πππ’ οΏ½οΏ½οΏ½οΏ½πππ π πππ π’ππ π πππ π πππ ππ ππππππππ ππ ππππππ ππππππ.
π°ππ πΈ πππππ ππππ π’ππ πππππ ππππ ππ π’ππ ππ πππ ππππ π’πππ π ππ’ ππππ. π΅ππ ππ π πππ ππ πππ πππππ ππ ππ ππ ππ’ πππ ππππ ππππππππ πππ π ππππ πΈ ππππ ππππππ ππ π’ππ. ππππ π πππππ ππππ ππππ π ππ’πππππππ. π° πππππ π ππ ππππππ ππ ππππ π’ππ ππππππ’, πππ ππππ ππ ππ’ ππ π ππππ ππππ π’ππππ πππ ππ’ ππππ ππππππππ πππππ π πππ ππ ππ ππππππππ.
π°ππ πΈ π πππ ππ ππππππ ππ ππππππππ’, π ππππ πΈ πππ ππ ππππππ πππ£π ππππ πππππ ππ’ππ πππππ ππππ πΈ πππππππ£ππ ππ ππππππ’.
πππ πππ£π ππ π’πππ ππ’ππ ππππ πππ ππππ ππ’ ππππ’ πππππππππ...
πΈ πππππ ππ’ πππππ πππ ππππ ππππ ππ ππππ ππ.
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dark academia isnβt just for the humanities: i bring you STEM academia.
observatories. stargazing. biographies of scientists. filling the board end to end with equations. hand-drawn anatomical diagrams. the hazy euphoria after finally finishing an assignment. oppenheimer & frankenstein. the uniformity of a circuit board; the chaos of a programming window. ibmβs a boy and his atom. event horizon telescopeβs black hole photo. the wonder of studying anatomy and knowing thatβs happening within you. sketching organic compounds that may as well be sigils. studying latin for medical terminology. doing problem sets to classical music.
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βCome, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder.β
β Virginia Woolf, from βThe Waves.β
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from Anthology of Armenian Poetry, ed. & tr. byΒ Diana Der HovanessianΒ and Marzbed Margossian; "David of Sassoun"
[Text ID: "I do not feel part of the world."]
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*tentacles slither onto Stephen's body and wiggle into every single orifice of his body*
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