An artist’s only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else’s. Everything everybody does is so — I don’t know — not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless and — sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you’re conforming just as much only in a different way. I say that the true artist-seer, the heavenly fool who can and does produce beauty, is mainly dazzled to death by his own scruples, the blinding shapes and colors of his own sacred human conscience.
Seriously getting turned on by this. I am so weird.
This is so fucking perfect.
This military hospital dates back to 1879, built on a hill since the theory at the time was that a fresh breeze would blow away infection. Eventually closing in 1996, many reasons were given for the closure, including maintenance costs, efficiency, and asbestos.
dead moon - walking on my grave