pinmeupagainstthesky:

These, for me, are the two most depressing paintings in western history. They were painted by post-impressionist Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec, a man who, due to inbreeding, was born with a genetic disorder that prevented his legs from growing after they were broken. After being so thoroughly mocked for is appearance, he became an alcoholic, which is what eventually caused his institutionalization and death. His only known romantic relations were with prostitutes.

And then he paints something like this which is so beautiful and tender and sentimental. It seems like the couple in bed really loves each other—cares about each other. Wakes up happy to look at each other. And I see that love and passion and I wonder how lonely he must have been. I wonder how he could paint something like this without it breaking his heart. 

Maybe they say artists should create what they know, not because its unbelievable when they extend themselves beyond their experiences, but because when they pull it off with such elegance, it’s so damn unbearable to look at. I hate thinking of Lautrec, wondering about the lovers he created and knowing it was beyond his experience. Creating something that he knows is beautiful and knows he’ll never really understand. 

(via piazza-new-york-catcher)

Sometimes the perfect thing to do is to curl up with a book you can’t put down and just forget the world for the night.

the-aspen-tree:

There was a quote I read once. Something about what a beautiful feeling it is when someone falls asleep in your presence. It means they trust you. It means they’re comfortable enough to fully let their guard down and become unconscious in front of you. They trust you’ll take care of them. And i think about that often

the-aspen-tree:

There was a quote I read once. Something about what a beautiful feeling it is when someone falls asleep in your presence. It means they trust you. It means they’re comfortable enough to fully let their guard down and become unconscious in front of you. They trust you’ll take care of them. And i think about that often

(Source: whoreo, via cleanteeth-deactivated20140413)

visual-poetry:

“thumbprint portrait” by cheryl sorg

(have a look at her etsy shop)

I want you to miss me. I want you to recognise me in your morning cereal and the voice of your favourite singer. I want you to wonder where I am when your fingers are stretched beneath your waistband, when you’re lighting up, when you’re tripping up that uneven step on your basement stairs. I want you to think of me when you look into your teacup and your rear-view mirror. I want you.

Camryn Pulaski  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: hellanne, via awelltraveledwoman)

(via amoraliste)