Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky project by photographer Vladimir Glynin and stylist Vadim Galaganov.

Toal’s looking around the house with distaste. It’s a mess: aluminium takeaway cartons, chip-shop wrappers, beer cans (purple? aye, it’s found us at last!), plates with rotting scraps of food on them, even a pile of dried sick in one corner. – Listen Bruce, Toal’s face pinches as he allows his nostrils to acknowledge the stench we have long been oblivious to – you can’t live like this. Is there nobody we can get in touch with, to make sure you’re being looked after?

- No...

Feast of Angels, Nobuyoshi Araki, 1992

The Houston Post, Texas, December 18, 1912

1961, Max Scheler

Adventures in solitude, Cristina Coral

Herbert Marshall

All your sorrow, Louise, and hatred of me
Sprang from your delusion that it was wantonness
Of spirit and contempt of your soul's rights
Which made me turn to Annabelle and forsake you.
You really grew to hate me for love of me,
Because I was your soul's happiness,
Formed and tempered to solve your life for you, and would not.
But you were my misery.  If you had been my happiness would I not have clung to you?
This is life's sorrow:
That one can be happy only where two are;
And that our hearts are drawn to stars
Which want us not.

 

Edgar Lee Masters

by @augustlamm

Simon Roberts’ photograph of the airport at Magadan, Russian far east, 2004

Nico, 1966 by Paul Morrissey

Pieces of April, Vasilios Paspalis

I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal.

Vita Sackville - West