October 14, 2014
shadows | clerob 2014

shadows | clerob 2014

October 9, 2014
inneroptics:

Jean Pascal Imsand

inneroptics:

Jean Pascal Imsand

(via beatrixluff)

October 7, 2014
le tue parole inciampano nelle mie estasi
marrisseyy:

Your words stumble in my ecstasy - Gastone Novelli, 1967

le tue parole inciampano nelle mie estasi

marrisseyy:

Your words stumble in my ecstasy - Gastone Novelli, 1967

December 21, 2013
Biennale 2013

Biennale 2013

April 5, 2012

April 3, 2012
blackhead (God)

But presently her life darkened. Something was finished, people were already getting up to leave. How quickly! Her father died, she moved to another street. She stopped seeing her friends, knitted the little bonnets in fashion, and gave cheap French lessons at some ladies’ club or other. In this way her life dragged on to the age of thirty.

4:03pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZcUXJyJ0P9Wt
  
Filed under: nabokov god dark thirty French fashion 
March 28, 2012
sickbeauty on Flickr.Today I understood the beauty of intersecting wires  in the  sky,  and  the  hazy  mosaic of factory chimneys, and this rusty tin with its inside-out, semidetached, serrated lid.

sickbeauty on Flickr.

Today I understood the beauty of intersecting wires in the sky, and the hazy mosaic of factory chimneys, and this rusty tin with its inside-out, semidetached, serrated lid.

5:01pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZcUXJyIhtgiw
Filed under: nabokov wires chimneys sky lid 
March 28, 2012
birdonpink on Flickr.Today I understood the beauty of intersecting wires  in
the  sky,  and  the  hazy  mosaic of factory chimneys, and this
rusty tin with its inside-out, semidetached, serrated lid.

birdonpink on Flickr.

Today I understood the beauty of intersecting wires in
the sky, and the hazy mosaic of factory chimneys, and this
rusty tin with its inside-out, semidetached, serrated lid.

March 28, 2012
His right eye was still in the shadows, the left peered at me timorously, elongated, smoky-green. The pupil glowed like a point of rust…. That mossy-gray tuft on his temple, the pale-silver, scarcely noticeable eyebrow, the comical wrinkle near his whiskerless mouth—-how all this teased and vaguely vexed my memory!

His right eye was still in the shadows, the left peered at me timorously, elongated, smoky-green. The pupil glowed like a point of rust…. That mossy-gray tuft on his temple, the pale-silver, scarcely noticeable eyebrow, the comical wrinkle near his whiskerless mouth—-how all this teased and vaguely vexed my memory!

March 12, 2012
Everything seemed blurred, yellow-clouded, yielding nothing tangible. Her inept acrostics, maudlin evasions, theopathies - every recollection formed ripples of mysterious meaning.   Everything seemed yellowly blurred, illusive, lost.

Everything seemed blurred, yellow-clouded, yielding nothing tangible. Her inept acrostics, maudlin evasions, theopathies - every recollection formed ripples of mysterious meaning.   Everything seemed yellowly blurred, illusive, lost.

3:23pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZcUXJyHtBTy0
  
Filed under: Nabokov blurred illusive lost 
February 27, 2012
cloud#08 (by clerob)

cloud#08 (by clerob)

1:29pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZcUXJyH7L_F3
  
Filed under: cloud 
February 23, 2012
All colors made me happy: even gray.
My eyes were such that literally they
Took photographs.

All colors made me happy: even gray.

My eyes were such that literally they

Took photographs.

4:28pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZcUXJyGuibtv
  
Filed under: Nabokov gray photographs 
January 26, 2012
He heaved a deep sigh, and once again I had visions of billowing nimbus, lofty leafy undulations, bright flashes of birch bark like splashes of sea foam, against a dulcet, perpetual, hum…. 

He heaved a deep sigh, and once again I had visions of billowing nimbus, lofty leafy undulations, bright flashes of birch bark like splashes of sea foam, against a dulcet, perpetual, hum…. 

January 24, 2012
apreslude on Flickr.Into the harsh light of its gaudily carpeted space a masked giant, fully eight feet tall, erupted, running strongly in the kind of soft boots worn by Cossack dancers.

apreslude on Flickr.

Into the harsh light of its gaudily carpeted space a masked giant, fully eight feet tall, erupted, running strongly in the kind of soft boots worn by Cossack dancers.

4:49pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZcUXJyFI5_QI
  
Filed under: poetry 
January 19, 2012
Viewing  the  past  graphically, I see our mangled romance engulfed in a deep valley of mist  between  the  crags  of  two matter-of-fact  mountains: life had been real before, life will be real from now on, I  hope.

Viewing  the  past  graphically, I see our mangled romance engulfed in a deep valley of mist  between  the  crags  of  two matter-of-fact  mountains: life had been real before, life will be real from now on, I  hope.

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