Latest Posts by chatazawsia - Page 3

Found photo

the urge to turn my room into a skansen

It seems like no one these days wants a weird girl who can’t drive

the only two constant states in life

Ivan’s Childhood (1962) dir.Andrei Tarkovsky

Franz Kafka

Eda Urbani. Woman at Confessional, 1937.

Helena Modrzejewska jako Ofelia w “Hamlecie” Williama Szekspira, 1867

Masao Yamamoto, Kawa=Flow #1628 and #1633, 2014

Saul Leiter, Sunday Morning, c. 1947

this photo of albert camus

on one hand, i'm very glad to have like, rights and electricity but on the other, the fact that i don't live in polish countryside in 19th century is very tragic

Gdzie jest trzeci król (1967)

i feel like people got so weird about age gaps in this very abstract sense that now there's this taboo about being friends with someone who's a few years older or younger than u....like, i have friends in their 70s and i have friends in their early 20s and im always friendly with teenagers & kids too because they all deserve to have adult friends in their lives who they can trust! other people projecting their gross shit onto those friendships is not my problem

i can’t believe people expect me to do anything in my life except reading books, listening to music and crying at every little inconvenience

“Tyle nam pieszczoty, Co dla czworga rąk. A ty, zmierzchu złoty, Konaj wpośród łąk.”

— Bolesław Leśmian, Skończoność; Dziejba leśna, 1938

polishcore

This handsome fella is Leonid Mikhailovich Kharitonov (Sept. 18 1933 - Sept. 19, 2017). He was a singer in the Red Army Choir of the Soviet Union, renowned for his distinctive bass-baritone voice, and such songs as “Dark-Eyed Cossack Girl” and “Song of the Volga Boatmen”.

W życiu nic mi nie wyszło, ale chociaż w ładnym domku mieszkam.

if there's anything reading dostoyevsky has taught me it's how to make page-long sentences while not forgetting what i was meaning to say

“Lips of Blood” (1975) - Jean Rollin

what is everyone currently reading🤨🤨

“Ktoś dziś mnie opuścił w ten chmurny dzień słotny… Kto? Nie wiem… Ktoś odszedł i jestem samotny… Ktoś umarł… Kto? Próżno w pamięci swej grzebię… Ktoś drogi… wszak byłem na jakimś pogrzebie… Tak… Szczęście przyjść chciało, lecz mroków się zlękło. Ktoś chciał mnie ukochać, lecz serce mu pękło, Gdy poznał, że we mnie skrę roztlić chce próżno…”

— “Deszcz jesienny” Leopold Staff