I Wish I Could Terrorize Ancient People With Things That Are Commonplace Today

PLEASE DONT BUY YOUR BOOKS FROM AMAZON

“The road to Hell is easy. Pluto’s door is open day and night. But to retrace one’s steps and come back up to the world above, that is the problem.”

— Aeneid, Vergil 

hi just a reminder this was the decade that lemony snicket wrote ‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch everything go wrong’ and I think it is the greatest love poem in existence

And the angel said, “DO NOT BE AFRAID.”

Ｓｕｎｆｌｏｗｅｒ Ｐｕｇ 🌻

Reminder that Stonewall wasn’t about marriage equality. Stonewall was about police brutality. It was about systemic abuse and subordination. Stonewall was spearheaded by black trans women. As we celebrate Pride 2020, within the context of the Black Lives Matter riots, it’s imperative that we remember that.

Riots in protest of police brutality are the reason that we have more rights today. Do not forget your roots.

You can’t celebrate Pride while simultaneously condemning the Black Lives Matter riots and protests that are happening right now. Know your history.

russian classics aesthetic

Brothers Karamazov: orthodox monasteries, deep woods, starry nights, the sound of paper being torn, dimly lit rooms, withered roses, an unfinished letter, piles of books, the sound of shattering glass, ticking of clocks in a silent house, heavy wooden furniture, the air before a storm, the smell of earth, a crowd of people dressed in black, distant murmurs, emptied streets, the fear of walking alone in dusk

Crime and Punishment: coldness of the skin against a blade, slender pale fingers and slightly shaking hands, a red stain blooming on white fabric, lonely steps in a corridor, the slow dripping of water, looking out of the window into the thickening darkness, a single dying candle on the table, listening to one’s breath and counting heartbeats, too many stairs, the desire to be invisible, a subtle memory of kind word

The Idiot: classical statues, wealth covered with dust, a dark house tainted with inherited madness, an unsettling feeling, long walks in a park, useless chatter, a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench, a melancholic face, an unexpected spring rain, the joy of reading one’s favorite book, the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around, looking at cloudless sky  

Anna Karenina: fields of crops, flowers brought from an early morning walk, the wind caressing a girl’s hair, a bowl of fruit, the smell of ripe pears, the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea, children’s laughter coming from the garden, soft sunlight and white curtains, the sensation of velvet against skin, pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor, a sudden silence in a room full of people

War and Peace: a glass of wine, the brightness of  a crystal chandelier, white lace, a raging snow storm, the sound of a door being gently closed, the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room, indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light, the sound of a saber being drawn, closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing, the sweet smell of strawberries, a pair of gloves left on an armchair, light scent of powder

The Master and Margarita: the chaos of a lively city, ambient jazz in expensive restaurants, jumping on a moving tram, the sight of Moscow from the roof of a house, yellow flowers in a vase, leaning out of the window, shelves stacked with books, a small tin box with old photographs, strange shapes in the night sky, laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony, colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind

Eugene Onegin: a lonely mansion, reading a book in the parlor, faint piano melody lingering in falling silence, long evenings, passing seasons, discussing french novels of the moment, unspoken thoughts, leaning against the door frame, quickly averted glance, eating a peach absent-minded, bright mornings, footprints in snow, a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby   

A Hero of Our Time: byronic boredom, getting up late in the afternoon, the hidden unspeakable sadness of existence, shakespeare’s tragedy opened next to untouched breakfast, cigarette smoke, polished boots, walking with one’s coat wide open letting the night chill break through to the bone, carved wooden chair, fading warmth of the ashes late in the evening, the thought of farewell  

Fathers and Sons: birch groves, morning mist, moss covered stones near a  moor, scientific books, white roses, cheap champagne, shabby pocket-watch, light-hearted irony, a maladroit cello sonata, freshly mowed grass, leaving thoughts come and go, a slow yawn, picturesque plates and bowls filled with traditional dishes, drinking tea on the porch, longing for the future   

Doctor Zhivago: a strange feeling of loss, writing poems in a diary, traveling by train, the hesitation before touching someone’s hand, the gaze of one lost in thought, the warmth of cinnamon, a scarf brightly embellished with flowers, a glass of water, two people listening each on the other side of the door, a threadbare jacket, the tempting void, the evanescent serenity of yesterday  

Dead Souls: horses in a merry gallop, delicious smells mingled, grotesque and bizarre tragedy, luxurious attire cheap soul, masks, a perfumed love letter, the triumph of sarcasm, an unattached wheel rolling down a dusty road, the atmosphere of commedia dell’ arte, puzzling speeches, a baffling caricature drawn on a handkerchief   

Cherry Orchard: a lone chair in an empty room, falling blossoms, old samovar, the unsettling need for change, a mirror reflecting full moon, the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance, a piano out of tune      

playlists i made inspired by literature pt 1

sitting alone in your mansion, you nurse your glass of champagne, you lay back on the chaise lounge, a cigarette in hand. you look up at the mauled, grotesque portrait that was once so beautiful. it was painted for you hundreds of years ago,and yet you have not aged a day. “i’m so sorry basil” you murmur

the year is 1832 and you in are in paris, you have been planning a revolution along with your friends for almost a year now. there is a fire in your belly, a war in your mind and you are ready to die for your blessed france, ready to die among your best friends. 

everything in this school is old and beautiful, and the classics are truly coming alive here. you are drinking wine every night, practising your latin and concerning yourself with the most odd looking, most enchanting friendship group. rumours of murder and divine intervention follow you wherever you go. something in this school is dionysian and deadly.