Dancing With Death
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Dear every manufacturer of women’s clothing, ever:
Faux pockets are an abomination. If you’re going to bother putting pocket flaps on something, add the G-d damn pockets.
No love,
Jilli
And make the pockets deeper, you soulless bastards.
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“The Nightingale” by Renáta Fučíková
The poor emperor, finding he could scarcely breathe with a strange weight on his chest, opened his eyes, and saw Death sitting there. He had put on the emperor’s golden crown, and held in one hand his sword of state, and in the other his beautiful banner.
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Last night, I finally got around to spending a pair of $25 Amazon gift cards that I’ve had since Christmas. (Yeah, I could procrastinate for the Olympics.) I bought all but one of the Dresden Files novels I don’t yet own. They should get here Tuesday; I’m really excited, especially since I somehow haven’t even read Grave Peril yet.
The one I’m missing is Blood Rites. My library has that one though. I actually checked it out last weekend and I’m re-reading it for the third time just this week.
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And I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health.
I said, “There’s nothing I can do for you, you can’t do for yourself.”
He said, “Oh, yes you can, just hold my hand. I think that would help.”
So I sat with him a while and I asked him how he felt.
He said, “I think I’m cured. No, in fact I’m sure of it. Thank you stranger for your theraputic smile.” -
The kiss of death.This astonishing sculpture forms part of Barcelona’s Poblenou Cemetery. The Kiss of Death (El Petó de la Mort in Catalan and El beso de la muerte in Spanish) dates back to 1930. A winged skeleton bestows a kiss on the lips of a handsome young man: is it ecstasy on his face or resignation? Little wonder the sculpture elicits strong and varying responses from whoever gazes upon it.
Likes
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i just really had to get this doodle out of my system before i went to bed...
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art slunp
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Paid for by the “clubs deuce is not a literal child” fund
very...
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brushie brushie brushie
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hay qurl
