
Photographer Unknown, (Blue Grays)
A fine art, film, history and literature site oriented to, but not exclusively for, the gay community. Please be aware that there is mature content on this blog. Information on images and links to sources will be provided if known. Enjoy your visit and please subscribe.

Photographer Unknown, (Blue Grays)

Photographer Unknown, (Filtered Light)
“To photograph is to hold one’s breath, when all faculties converge to capture fleeting reality. It’s at that precise moment that mastering an image becomes a great physical and intellectual joy.”
―

Photographer Unknown, (Amid the Tall Pines)

Photographer Unknown, (Bee, Skull and Two Pink Roses)

Photographer Unknown, (The Gaze)
“The madness of the eyes is the lure of the abyss. Sirens lurk in the dark depths of the pupils as they lurk at the bottom of the sea, that I know for sure – but I have never encountered them, and I am searching still for the profound and plaintive gazes in whose depths I might be able, like Hamlet redeemed, to drown the Ophelia of my desire.”
―
Photographer Unknown, (A Man with a Beard)
“A man with a beard was always a little suspect anyway. You couldn’t say you wore a beard because you liked a beard. People didn’t like you for telling the truth. You had to say you had a scar so you couldn’t shave.”
― John Steinbeck, Cannery Row
Intensity Behind the Calmness
The Guy in the Rear Seat
Reblogged with thanks to http://exposedtease.tumblr.com

Photographer Unknown, (Blue Shirt Unbuttoned)
Reblogged with thanks to http://hairyonholiday.tumblr.com

Photographer Unknown, The Elephant Ear Plant: Alocasia Calidora

Photographer Unknown, (When You Wish Upon a Red Star)
Reblolgged with many thanks to http://stkjstkj.tumblr.com
Photographer Unknown, (Small Black Heart)
“The vilest of men and the wickedest of women likewise may do good from time to time, for love and compassion and pity may be found in even the blackest of hearts.”
―
Photographer Unknown, (In the Midst of Darkness)
“Of course there always will be darkness but I realize now something inhabits it. Historical or not. Sometimes it seems like a cat, the panther with its moon mad gait or a tiger with stripes of ash and eyes as wild as winter oceans. Sometimes it’s the curve of a wrist or what’s left of romance, still hiding in the drawer of some long lost nightstand or carefully drawn in the margins of an old discarded calendar. Sometimes it’s even just a vapor trail speeding west, prophetic, over clouds aglow with dangerous light.
Of course these are only images, my images, and in the end they’re born out of something much more akin to a Voice, which though invisible to the eye and frequently unheard by even the ear still continues, day and night, year after year, to sweep through us all.”
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