Vangogh - Tumblr Posts

I wrote something in my notebook today. Something you'll never read. Secrets I'll never tell. #photography #photographer #albanianphotographer #photographersoninstagram #amateurphotography #nikon #nikonphotography #nikond3200 #nikonuser #nikonphotographer #nikonalbania #notebook #writing #secrets #postcard #vangogh #sunflowers #vangoghsunflowers #vintage #aesthetic https://www.instagram.com/p/B1BlVwZAQhh/?igshid=1jpntxx7v0gr0

𝚈𝙰𝙻𝙽𝙸𝚉𝙻𝙸𝙺

𝙴𝚗 𝚔𝚘̈𝚝𝚞̈𝚜𝚞̈ 𝚍𝚎 𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚢𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚗 ? 𝚈𝚊𝚛ı𝚗𝚊 𝚔𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚔𝚊𝚟𝚞𝚜̧𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚐𝚞̈𝚗𝚞̈ 𝚢𝚊𝚜̧𝚊𝚗𝚖𝚊𝚖ı𝚜̧ 𝚔ı𝚕𝚊𝚛,𝚘̈𝚢𝚕𝚎𝚢𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚞̈𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚔𝚊𝚕𝚍ı𝚔 𝚢𝚊𝚛. 𝙱𝚘̈𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚗𝚒 𝚐𝚞̈𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚐̆𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚞̈𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚊𝚜̧𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚊𝚖 𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚛. 𝙲̧𝚞̈𝚗𝚔𝚞̈ 𝙾'𝚗𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚌̧𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚔 𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚔,𝚍𝚞̈𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚌̧ 𝚎𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚔𝚝𝚒𝚛. 𝙰𝚖𝚊 𝚊𝚛𝚍ı𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚕ı𝚗𝚖𝚊𝚣 𝚊𝚕ı𝚗𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚕 𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚞̈𝚣𝚐𝚞̈𝚗 𝚘𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚣. 𝙴𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚏ı𝚗ı𝚣𝚍𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝚌̧𝚘𝚐̆𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚗 𝚘̈𝚗𝚞̈𝚗𝚞̈𝚣𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚗ı𝚣 𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚔𝚝𝚒𝚐̆𝚒𝚗𝚒 𝚜𝚘̈𝚢𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚖𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚊 𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚣. 𝙸̇𝚢𝚒 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚖ı ? 𝙴𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚔𝚒 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚖𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚖 𝚢𝚊 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚞̈𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚔𝚊𝚕𝚍ı𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚞̈𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚔𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚍ı𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚊 𝚌̧𝚊𝚕ı𝚜̧𝚝ı𝚐̆ı 𝚜𝚞̈𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘̈𝚗𝚞̈𝚗𝚎 𝚌̧ı𝚔𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚢𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚐̆𝚒 𝚍𝚎 𝚐𝚞̈𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐̆𝚒 𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚔 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚍𝚊𝚍ı𝚛𝚕𝚊𝚛. 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚋𝚘̈𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚢𝚘𝚛𝚞𝚣 𝚒𝚢𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚐̆𝚒 𝚒𝚢𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚐̆𝚎,𝚐𝚞̈𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚒 𝚐𝚞̈𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐̆𝚎.

- 𝙾̈𝚢𝚕𝚎𝚢𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚞̈𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚔𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚊𝚛,𝚢𝚊𝚕𝚗ı𝚣 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚊𝚛.

- Okan Cem GÖK/HAZİRAN

picture in her locket.

“and there is this picture in her locket

it reminds me of you

and she wears it close

just like how i used to do

and i used to long for your rusty eyes

i hope she does too

and when my character dies

i pray the news reaches you

and when my ashes are found

i wish you know that the fire were you.”

hey, everyone. i hope you're doing well. okay, so let’s talk about this piece. this is probably the longest piece i have ever written. even though it’s really simple, i just thought that i would give you a little backstory for it.

this, as you can see, is a story that revolves around three people. i like to call them;

cedar coral (the male character), rosary hemlock (the female character) and ivy nightshade (the other female character and also the narrator. and um, i also like to think that i am ivy).

anyways, rosary cleaves a locket that posses something that ivy thinks should be hers. even though, she has lost all rights to it, and she knows that it’s off-limits.

cedar, on the other hand is now madly in love with rosary. he has moved on into this beautiful relationship with this beautiful girl, that he knows is the one.

ivy, she hasn’t moved on. though she portrays that image, but she’s stuck. still stuck in the waves of memories that never seem to hit the shore.

she can’t help, but to bring his name up in every conversation. she can’t just let him go. as if it’s imprinted on her soul, her heart, her mind, her body and everything cedar ever managed to touch.

though she blames him for everything. the heartaches, the shattered glass vase on the floor that screams anger and agony and all the tears that came along when they both parted ways, but she still longs for him. she still wants him back.

she keeps on forgetting the reason why cedar left. the reason why he had to leave. she believes that she’s harmless, but then again she’s ivy.

all in all, ivy’s a toxic bitch. pray for cedar and rosary.

dead roots of dead wood.

“and if you must walk the other way

i envy the soul standing at the end of the path you choose to take

but if one’s beloved desires not to stay

then there’s no other heart that can break this way.”

hey, everyone. i hope you’re doing well. this is the next, other, or you can say maybe the last part of my previous post. i don’t know why i delayed it so much, because i wrote this part right after i wrote the first one. probably because i was thinking about leaving it to just that (the previous part).

for those of you who haven’t read the previous one, here’s some information about the dramatis personae of this play that i created inside my head.

cedar coral (the male character), rosary hemlock (the female character) and ivy nightshade (the other female character and also the narrator. and um, i also like to think that i am ivy).

acceptance. it’s a brutal thing. maybe not for others, but for ivy it is.

gone. cedar is gone. he has left. he has left and left pieces of himself in the form of burning memories. ivy stares. she stares at the door.

‘what if the door knocks— what if the door knocks, and it’s him?’

‘should i sit near the telephone table? i probably should.’

‘should i wait by the door? or maybe— maybe in the front lawn?’ thoughts are poison. they truly are. even more when they are far away from reality.

rosary hemlock. she is indeed the soul standing at the end of the path cedar chose to take. she’s everything ivy could never be, and it’s not about being beautiful, it’s about how she is the one whom he chose.

rosary isn’t a responsibility just like how ivy was. a child. ivy acted like a child waiting by the door every day when the clock hits two, waiting for cedar to come home, so she could welcome him.

ivy tried so hard. to be perfect, to be presentable, to be accepted, to be welcomed and to be his. but now that he’s gone, and she knows that it’s not her, it will never be her-she accepts this twist of fate.

ivy patches up her heart with the plaster of acceptance, but she still waits by the door and the shattered vase on the floor still screams anger and agony just like it did on the day they tied the knot.

set: meredith, nh.

death on pretty wings.

“who would have known that those butterflies that you gave me were just death on pretty wings?”

hii, everyone. i hope you’re doing well. this is just another simple piece. ‘death on swift wings’ was the first line/phrase that came into my mind. life is very unpredictable. one moment you’re celebrating something and the other moment you’re swinging in and on about how to keep this happiness forever.

things change, times change, people change. everything changes. just like pretty seasons, pretty people change too. there are feelings, beautiful feelings that leave you muddled, but in a good way. feelings like butterflies enveloping your heart.

butterflies. in general, having butterflies (in your stomach), means you are nervous about something. usually used when you like someone, and he/she/they is/are in your vicinity, so when you tell them “you give me butterflies.” usually in the stomach, it means they make you feel nervous.

it seems so beautiful when you sense these feelings arise, but what blooms, dies too.

forever and always.

“forever and always?”

“forever and always.”

— a promise so quiet that it seemed like a lie, because neither me nor you could paint our fate differently.

hey, everyone. i hope you’re doing well. the background for this one isn’t really the best but anyways. i just think that some promises aren’t really meant to be kept. they break just like a garden-filled brittle heart. they are forgotten just like how those dried up yellow leaves left in a never-opened-again book, that were once freshly green are. they are clear and delicately said just like how white lies are. they are all the same.

unfortunately, people like me can’t do anything about that. we can’t stitch our fate— our destiny differently. we can’t rewrite our stars. buy another fortune. no. book a happy ending. probably not. that’s not possible. well, it’s not when these vows are being expected to keep a firm hold on the star-crossed pillars of extreme dejection, sorrow, agony and despondency.

so if it’s not meant to be, it will never be.

Magnifico!

Watch: Full Trailer for ‘Loving Vincent,’ a Feature-Length Film Animated by 62,450 Oil Paintings [video]

You are My Universe 💜💙

Bon Voyage

You shine in all your blues too.

Art and Music is all it takes to make me happy.

“Haunted”

Prisma Color Markers and Faber Castell Pen on paper.

Digitally edited.

"Eu sonho minha pintura,e então eu pinto o meu sonho."

Van Gogh

🥀🔥

Me trying to #vangogh #watercolour #lategram #fire #art