GAY TEST: Put Some Of Your Blood Into This Petri Dish And I'll Expose It To A Hot Needle. I Lied This

The Endurance

Aurora Borealis, by Frederic Edwin Church, 1865

The Icebergs (The North), by Frederic Edwin Church, 1861

happy birthday bill :)))

Arctic Explorer

Flames in the night (by Tobias Hägg) Vestvågøy, Norway

Inside Siberia’s isolated community of forgotten women. Photographed by Oded Wagenstein.

“In the remote village of Yar-Sale in Northern Siberia, live a group of elderly women. They were once part of a nomadic community of reindeer herders. However, in their old age, they spend most of their days in seclusion, isolated from the world they loved and their community. While men are usually encouraged to remain within the migrating community and maintain their social roles, the women often face the struggles of old age alone.It took a flight, a sixty-hour train ride from Moscow, and a seven-hour bone-breaking drive across a frozen river to meet them. I immersed myself in their closed community, and for days, over many cups of tea, they shared their stories, lullabies, and longings with me.On this series, the memories of the past, represented by the images of the outside world, are combined with the portraits of current reality.

By doing so, I tried to give their stories a visual representation. One that could last after they are already gone.  

(*Like Last Year’s Snow is a Yiddish expression – referring to something which is not relevant anymore)”

- Oded Wagenstein

Beaufort Island and Mount Erebus. Discovered 28 Jan 1841, John Edward Davies, 1841 - Captain James Clark Ross, Antarctic Expedition

Pictures from the British Antarctic expedition (1910-1913) + 1993 suggestion for long-term nuclear waste warning messages

writing my first kinda real academic paper about antarctica and turns out I know things but don’t know how I know them. which is not very convenient for footnotes as you may imagine. source: bro trust me half of my brain is polar exploration

oh so you consider the past “romantic” but when I tell you about my dream of being an 1800s arctic explorer who dies homoromantically frozen in the arms of their shipmate while dreaming of tar-black horror terrors under the ice and forgetting the taste of sunshine, shivering and calling Billy’s name over and over out again even though he’s stopped moving and it echoes against the frigid rotting halls of the ship as the cold eats away at my nerve endings

suddenly I’m “disturbed” and won’t be invited to anymore “Victorian themed weddings.” hypocrites.