I adore how she carries his head low, at her side, and not aloft in triumph. This is not a self-aggrandizing hero lauding her great deed. This is a woman who wanted to be left the fuck alone.
Also look at her body. The double hips. The asymetrical boobs. She’s thin, but she’s realistic as hell. That’s a real woman.
New set of phone wallpapers from my latest illustrations! They’re free to use, as always ♥ (For mobile users, there’s a link to the hi-res files in my FAQ)
I just had this hyper-realistic dream and like. I don’t even know what to make of this lmao
I was sitting in this park, on a bench, looking up at the night sky and all the stars and stuff, and I blinked and suddenly the entire sky was different. I’m talking different constellations, the sky absolutely packed with billions more stars, some so close they’re massive. I’m like wtf and suddenly I realise there’s an old man sitting next to me, dressed in like 1940s clothing, also looking up at the sky.
before I can ask him if he’s you know, noticed, he speaks, without looking away from the sky.
“this is what the universe really looks like,” he tells me.
“oh,” I say. a pause. “…can you put it back?”
he smiles and nods. I look up. the sky has gone back to normal.
“what do I do with this information?” I ask, looking at him again.
he turns his head and, smiling, looks me dead in the face. "be careful.“
I reblog this every time I see it, because the part that makes this so horrific to me, is that the room is a direct callback to Goodnight Moon. It takes this memory of safety and security and turns it directly upside down and I love it.
give yourself over to the wolf. let it eat the parts of you that are sick, that are damaged beyond salvage. let the wolf in and let it clean house, and let it leave again. the wolf knows which parts must be swallowed. you do not need what it takes, and where it bites you the wounds will heal. let the wolf in and let it eat you, and let it leave again.
First of all, “…they were surrounded on all sides by echoes and images of themselves, in a world where image and object had not yet torn themselves apart” is one of the most poetic phrasings I’ve ever heard.
Third, the original opens with: “Every so often, I get the urge to drag someone into a cave, and show them something unspeakable.”
I had another point, but it got lost in the artful prose of this article.
I feel like “every so often, I get the urge to drag someone into a cave and show them something unspeakable” is something that’s okay for a paleolithic cave art expert to say, but like, absolutely no one else
This is some good writing, especially since it starts as a rant. But there’s no regulation that says a rant can’t be done in graceful language, and there’s plenty of it here.
“…we’ll push him into one of its huge, damp, cool cathedral-halls of
fractured rock, where the darkness and the vastness of empty space seem
to press themselves tightly against your skin, close and clawed and
ancient.”
Ever been in a cave complex when they turn out the lights for a few seconds?
I experienced this in the caves of Cheddar Gorge many years ago (I don’t know if they do it any more) and it’s as if the vaulting emptiness of the cave inverts, changing from open to enclosed and filled with a blackness so opaque you can feel it like the moisture in fog.
Read the whole article; read it for the rant, read it for the rest, but also read it for the words.
shealwaysreads 