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selfies with howler and spider monkeys who visited the treehouse where i made camp in the yungas :D

india ink + rain + sunlight

spring lightens my mood. i’ve even been inspired to script a light-hearted, romantic comedy in the vein of “you’ve got mail” and “the silence of the lambs.” picture it: a sassy new york city maneater answering “most private thing i’m willing to admit” with “i am a cannibal” on her mobile okcupid app. many dinner dates follow with hilarious, sexy, and delicious results. then, one day, she meets… the one. or is he? is it true love, or p.m.s. cravings and the desire to consume the most powerful and the canniest of men so as to demonically absorb his strengths? can you eat your cake/man and have it/him, too? can a girl really have it all?

k now i’m ready to start the day =^v^=

boohoo

random photos, drawing

papery erosion and rock gardening

featherwork of the ica valley

pygmalion remixed, mytho-logically speaking:

a man steals from a temple a silver vessel shaped like a woman. as it is easy to fill a voiceless void with one’s own desires, pretensions, and presumptions, he fills his cup and drinks from her many times. she’s bruised with his dirty fingerprints. dings and dents remark upon his careless manhandling. then she’s discarded in the grass by lake titicaca to gather dust, or more literally to get covered in dirt and bird shit. under inti’s burning hot (male) gaze, she melts. but then - like many disappointed women before her, or more like t-1000 in the terminator, she pulls herself together. remade and reformed - she turns her back on inti and runs off to intern with caimans, volunteers to teach remedial tarantella to tarantulas, and incites howler monkeys to riot by shouting things like “fuck the heteronormative gender binary! fuck the patriarchy!” one hot day, our hero, this true man among men, thirsts and gropes for a cup from which to drink. that is when he notes her absence. he calls her a faithless, irrational, jealous, crazy, cold bitch and accuses her of turning her back on him in his time of need. “so NOW i have a personality?” she yells from the forest canopy, exasperated, and shows him her hands, “look at all this motherfucking bird shit, what does this mean to you?”

south american orchid bees (genus Euglossa)

(Source: pensoft.net)