El equipo de #️⃣IgersHuatulco tiene el gusto de presentarles la 🏞🎇FOTOGRAFÍA DEL DÍA🌅🏞 capturada por: @alex.krotkov 🏆🥇🎖🏅 Visita su increíble galería. 🌟✨💫 ¡¡ MUCHAS FELICIDADES!! 💫✨🌟
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#Huatulco es la 1ra Comunidad Turística Sustentable del Continente Americano y la 2da a nivel mundial certificada por @earthcheck; queremos tanto a Huatulco como tú, USA NUESTRA ETIQUETA; Huatulco lo tiene todo, seguro te encantará en la #RutaDeLaCostaOaxaqueña .
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It’s one thing taking a brush and haphazardly putting an idea onto paper. It’s another thing creating work that speaks to other people and that tears out a piece of who you are during the process. This is what makes an artist. Shirts by @amicale_
Because my momma raised me to be a lady, I know when and what fork to use at a formal dinner. Because she didnt raise a fool, I know what artery to stick it in so you will bleed out in one minute.
Photo by @mardiandwi
I finished this book in the early hours of the morning and it sent chills down my spine and shockwaves throughout my body. I do think it is incorrect to label this book as gothic horror, as it is not as explicit or as graphic as the horror genre usually pertains to be. I would however label this as a gothic terror; the horror in this story is implicit and preys upon the reader’s imagination. Often times reading this book, I felt isolated and dizzy - falling prey to the same stir crazy which affected the characters. ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ is a masterful ghost story that I am sure will haunt me (haha) for years to come.
But here’s the thing — you were always growing, even when it did not feel that way. When the world felt like a weight inside of your chest, you were growing. When the hands that held your heart fumbled with all that it was, when they thrust it back into your palms, when “I love you” turned into “I cannot stay” — you were growing. When it felt as if your hope was holding its breath, when all that was alive underneath your skin suddenly calmed, suddenly laid down it's arms — you were growing. You were growing in the dark, and you were growing in the damage. You were growing in the loss, and in the healing, and in all that was messy within your life. And I know; I know it was hard to recognize. I know that sometimes circumstance can cloud judgement, that baggage can sometimes bury you. I know that sometimes it is difficult to see the way you are blooming from all of the missteps, from all of the mistakes, when you are rooted in the journey. But I hope you see it now — how your past conspired to build you into the person you are today. How it made you stronger and softer at the same time. I hope you see it now — how you were growing when you folded your hope into yourself each and every night. How you were growing when you fought to wake up each morning. I hope you see it now — how you were discovering yourself. How you were becoming.
With : @clicksbaba & @dramaticsperm 🌹💕
the happy allowed to take residence only in the sleepy, hazy, cobwebbed corners of the brain. pleasure exploding in rising tides before abating to nothing in its unreachable hiding place. nighttime becomes empty save for perilous in a ceaseless quest for rest. soft music plays jumbled lullabies that beg only for accompanying steady, even breathing.
Instead, here she lays... quiet... awake... lungs actively ignoring their owner’s wishes. simply a small, silent body. haunted. ever so ever haunted...
under a blanket so heavy it must drape over every inch of skin, from caramel hair to taupe-colored toes.
— depression after midnight, the meredith letters
i write sometimes... thoughts? feelings? continue sharing or nah??