Gustave Dore, Andromeda. 1869, oil on canvas. Private collection.
ugh you kill a few people on a camping trip and suddenly everyone calls you a “murderer” i’m so sick of labels
You kids wouldn’t know anything about a party here tonight, would you?
I’m moving through heavy water
The love is enormous
It’s lifting me up
I’d rather be sleeping
I’d rather fall into tidal waves
Right where the deepest currents fall”