Journies Through Time and Space...

Welcome to my Brain in Action...

For women who are tied to the moon, love alone is not enough. We insist each day wrap it’s knuckles through our heart strings and pull. The lows. The joy. The poetry. We dance at the edge of a cliff, you have fallen off. So it goes. You will climb up again.

You rare girl, once again, you have a body that belongs to no lover, to no father, belongs to no one but you. Wear your sorrow like the lines on your palm. Like a shawl to keep you warm at night. Don’t mourn the love that is lost to you now. It is a book of poems whose meters worked their way into your pulse. Even if it has slipped from your hands, it will stay in your body.

You loved a man who treated you like absinthe, half poison and half god. He tried to sweeten you, to water you down. So you left. And now you have your heart all to yourself again. A heart like a stone cottage. Heart like a lover’s diary. Hope like an ocean.

—   Letter From Anais Nin to Clementine von Radics (After Marty McConnel)

(Source: clementinevonradics, via moonsiren)

gravesandghouls:

Luis Ricardo Falero- The Witches Sabbath, 1880

gravesandghouls:

Luis Ricardo Falero- The Witches Sabbath, 1880

(via vintagegal)

gravesandghouls:

Ann Miller, 1945

gravesandghouls:

Ann Miller, 1945

(via vintagegal)

hifructosemag:

A careful collector of found objects and (ethically sourced) animal bones, Jessica Joslincreates delicate sculptures that gracefully encase skeletal remains in baroque ornamentation. Using antique metals from chandeliers, samovars and other Victorian-era relics, Joslin gives the creatures whose bones she utilizes a dignified appearance even in death. Her work is both decorative and visceral, as her intricate craftsmanship belies her haunting subject matter. The artist recently created a new body of work for her solo show, “The Immortal Zoo,”opening October 24 at the non-profit gallery Firecat Projects in Chicago. Watch a teaser video and check out our preview of her latest work on Hi-Fructose.

“Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night.”

—   William Blake (via jaded-mandarin)

(Source: vital-dust, via bloodmilk)

ineedahorse:

Credit: Erika Diniz

ineedahorse:

Credit: Erika Diniz

(via frisianhorse)

(Source: kaaarra, via moonsiren)

gravesandghouls:

Tintype Witches, 1875 (via)

gravesandghouls:

Tintype Witches, 1875 (via)

(via vintagegal)

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among the long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

—   W.B. Yeats (via moonsiren)

(Source: fernsandmoss, via moonsiren)