Scene from the beginning of Jerzy Kosinski’s The Painted Bird, which I read earlier this year. It’s a relentlessly dark book, and uh… “I enjoyed it” isn’t really an applicable phrase, but I did find it compelling and worthwhile.
Alfred Molina has a good nose.
IT’S AUTUMN. I’m gonna put on every single drapey black item of clothing I own, gaze wistfully over some windblown cliffs*, and Lord Byron the hell out of the next few months.
I have both an undercut and a tiny topknot now, so go ahead and ship me off to bad hipster haircut island so I can live out the rest of my days among my own shameful kind.
Wednesday Art of Style, for a change. Live your best chill seventies rockstar cosplay life. (x)
I’ve been working on a bunch of austerely gloomy paintings the past few months. This is most of the first one.