Courbet vs. Orlan

The Origin of the World (1866)

The Origin of War (1989)

(Source: multipleinsertions, via aliceglasshole)

2 weeks ago
26,665 notes
In fact, my soul and yours are the same,
You appear in me, I in you,
We hide in each other.

Love is the most intricate, complicated, and yet simple emotion…
In English, it’s such a loaded word, filled with expectation and grief. Yet its basic element is that of serenity and joy. No matter how much pain it causes, it brings a greater amount of pleasure.

I know what it means to give yourself completely to someone, and have them smash your heart into pieces. There was trust, there was the expectation of commitment. There were all of the conversations and secrets shared that all felt meaningless after being betrayed. But were they, really? Should we not appreciate those moments that were?

I know also what it means to love when it is forbidden. To grow closer in an asymptotic relationship that will always leave at least one party unfulfilled… something toxic, and yet beautiful as those souls are entangled, but constantly fighting the bonds of lovers.

Love, for me, has never truly flourished. It is always contained within a structure of fear, carefully constructed to navigate the labyrinths of emotion created by hopes and expectations. I aim to please, I don’t want to lie if I don’t have to, but I never want to hurt anybody…
"I don’t think I can ever be what you want me to be…"
Words I’ve said, and heard, myself. And yet our love is still there. We still endure the torture of a blissful heart.

Love is an openness and understanding to the very core of another being. I am most deeply in love with the people who have made their way through the barriers and mazes of my heart and mind. They are the ones who can imagine the world as I do. That love is not singular nor is it reserved for one person. Each intimate relationship brings its own rewards, and evokes thoughts and emotions that are otherwise inaccessible. But maintaining this love is still a challenge. Something in us wants exclusivity, insurance that this love will never be taken away, that someone else deserves that love more than we do…

At this point in my life, I don’t think I could ever make that kind of devotion, but I can’t really answer why. Maybe I just like seeing what everybody has to offer. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you, just that I want to consume every novelty the universe can throw at me…

And if I love you, won’t you let me show it?

These expectations are brutal.

5 months ago
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"The Scythe" ~ in loving memory of Ray Bradbury. Artwork ~ Francesco Francavilla.


"The Scythe" ~ in loving memory of Ray Bradbury. Artwork ~ Francesco Francavilla.

(via vermiculara)

5 months ago
920 notes

Jan Kempenaers, House, 2005

Jan Kempenaers, House, 2005

(Source: aqqindex, via mentalalchemy)

5 months ago
2,371 notes