I’m trying to depend less on social media.
I’ve come to the realization that technology will keep cluttering my life until I decide not to let it.
There’s something vet raw and pure about the idea of living simply.
I’ve become obsessed with this idea.
Beauty in simplicity.
This is my hiatus.

secretlesbians: “ Gustave Courbet, Le Sommeil,1866. Le Sommeil [The Sleepers], which depicts two women entwined in a post-coital embrace, caused a stir when it was first shown in the 1870s. The police were called in, and the painting was not shown...

secretlesbians:

Gustave Courbet, Le Sommeil,1866.

Le Sommeil [The Sleepers], which depicts two women entwined in a post-coital embrace, caused a stir when it was first shown in the 1870s. The police were called in, and the painting was not shown again until the 1980s. But its brief showing had an influence on a number of contemporary artists, and helped challenge the taboos associated with lesbian relationships. For modern audiences it’s a good reminder that people in the 19th century were not ignorant of lesbian relationships, as we tend to believe. And it’s pretty damn sexy, don’t you think?

fakepreme:

I appreciate when poems begin by mentioning cigarettes in some way cause it gives me the opportunity to stop reading it right off the bat

berlin1991:

im watching a girl on the bus put on lip balm.
her hair is rained on and pulled into a tiny loop on the back of her head.
i feel connected to her because we are both wet and wearing lipstick and heavy shoes
she is pulling sunglasses out of her backpack and pulling a piece of hair off her face. she is sliding a pin against her head.
she moves her hands like someone is watching. I think we all do this.
I wonder if
girls are poetic because we simply are or because someone is always watching us. being a voyeur makes me feel less innocent.

but still I wonder what she is reading. i wonder if the lipstick she’s wearing is her favorite or if it’s just the one she had in her pocket today. i wonder who she is going to meet tonight.

When she’s getting off the bus she smiles at me and i feel at ease. i want to tell her she is beautiful but I remember that every time a stranger told me I was beautiful it has made me feel uneasy. so I watch her go and I am grateful