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artfulwraith · 1 year
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i caught a glimpse of him, who i no longer recognised, through a reflective plane in my peripheral. i didn't know him but he still moved with purpose and meaningfully, but unknowingly, like a fly trapped under glass
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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maybe attics are the thin veil between the living and the dead. Some kind of purgatory they carve out over their heads to fill with creaking and moans. It's a masochist's delight to realise the trouble comes when we suddenly aren't sure if it's ourselves we're hearing
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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#xx
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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#xx
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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wish i had goat pupils
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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Celestial Skies, Felix Courche, late 19th to early 20th century
Oil on board 25 ½ x 39 ¼ in. (65 x 100 cm)
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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now you see me. x
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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he won't seize her as he's seized me. while some of his prey lay their soft bodies into a cradle of teeth waiting for his unhinged maw to clamp, she eludes him, luring him into a labyrinth of fun house mirrors, her peals of laughter echoing in eternity,
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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Percy Street Flat, 1958
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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1961 letter from Stuart Sutcliffe to his sister Pauline after he had left the Beatles and was living in Hamburg with Astrid.
In case it’s hard to read, the letter reads: ‘Also I’m waiting for my suit to be finished, black in beautiful material - with green lining - we were going to have red - too bright and too unsophisticated - blue - too cold - so green it is - four buttons single breasted - beautiful waistcoat with little tiny buttons etc. Trousers without turnups (naturally) without pockets, very tight hips and high like a Spanish bullfighter.
The one Astrid was making for me (she only managed to make the trousers because work proved too much) is corduroy very wide | | | | | | in fawn same style trousers, very beautiful, but the jacket’s different. Buttons all the way up the front and a collar like a vicar - very different.
Astrid isn’t well at the moment and also not talking to me as the result of my desire to play again.
Oh yes - Paul and Dot - in one way I’m not surprised but it is still rather a shock particularly if Dot was the one who finished it - it is time I suppose. You might be able to tell me a lot more about it - is Paul sad or [?] what and what prompted the break - do you think she found out about his affairs or did he give her the cold shoulder. Anyway I bet one of [page ends]“
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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artfulwraith · 1 year
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artfulwraith · 3 years
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The Flower of Pain, 1897, Edvard Munch
Medium: crayon,indianink,wash,watercolor,paper
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artfulwraith · 3 years
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Thru the looking glass
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