Astronomy: The 28 Phases Of The Moon In A Lunar Month.

"We are not written for one instrument alone; I am not, neither are you. "

-André Aciman, Call me by your name.

Call Me By Your Name (2017) dir. Luca Guadagnino

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.

- H. P. Lovecraft

Sadak in Search of the Waters of Oblivion (1812) by John Martin, Oil on Canvas

I like watching people at beaches. Mostly people that are with someone. Lonely ones don't have things to tell they're displaced.

Officially a tumblr fandom person now

What the album Obscured by clouds- Pink Floyd feels like to me

“I had learned one thing from Kizuki’s death, and I believed that I had made it a part of myself in the form of a philosophy: “Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life”. By living our lives, we nurture death. True as this might be, it was only one of the truths we had to learn. What I learned from Naoko’s death was this: no truth can cure the sadness we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness, can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see that sadness through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sadness that comes to us without warning.”

— Norwegian Woods, Haruki Murakami

“There is no mode of action, no form of emotion, that we do not share with the lower animals. It is only by language that we rise above them, or above each other — by language, which is the parent, and not the child, of thought.”

— Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist

Bambi (1942) – Little April Shower