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Paradise Lost (2005), Viviane Sassen Stevenson Gallery

Fri, 24 May 2013 12:00:53 -0400

Paradise Lost (2005), Viviane Sassen

Stevenson Gallery

Photo

Fri, 24 May 2013 10:30:21 -0400

gericalonzo: Geric Alonzo / Burn in pink Mixed media on...

Fri, 24 May 2013 09:00:30 -0400

gericalonzo:

Geric Alonzo / Burn in pink

Mixed media on paper, photoshop / 31 x 25 cm / 2013.

bjd-boys: Strangle You by ~alientune

Fri, 24 May 2013 07:30:20 -0400

bjd-boys:

Strangle You by ~alientune

cherry-and-also-bomb: ♡♡♡

Fri, 24 May 2013 06:00:37 -0400

cherry-and-also-bomb:

♡♡♡

Photo

Fri, 24 May 2013 04:30:19 -0400

iluvsouthernafrica: Sunday Shout-out: Somalia (1978) Somali...

Fri, 24 May 2013 03:00:27 -0400

iluvsouthernafrica:

Sunday Shout-out: Somalia (1978)

Somali school children

Photo by Mihály Moldvay

positivelythrifty: 21st May: Hobby on Flickr.

Fri, 24 May 2013 01:30:19 -0400

positivelythrifty:

21st May: Hobby on Flickr.

bulgolgi: lakidaa: drparisa: people who like my OCs people who know who my OCs are FACT

Thu, 23 May 2013 22:30:13 -0400

bulgolgi:

lakidaa:

drparisa:

people who like my OCs

people who know who my OCs are

FACT

Photo

Thu, 23 May 2013 21:42:02 -0400

yummytomatoes: anxiously doodles kanaya

Thu, 23 May 2013 21:00:25 -0400

yummytomatoes:

anxiously doodles kanaya

Photo

Thu, 23 May 2013 19:30:40 -0400

thesunmaid: looking through yummys art tag and felt inspired to draw somethin cute

Thu, 23 May 2013 18:00:49 -0400

thesunmaid:

looking through yummys art tag and felt inspired to draw somethin cute

"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but..."

Thu, 23 May 2013 16:30:27 -0400

“

Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

”

- Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore (via asian-rosy)

zymogen: now i’m lifeless— life lets me live, (finally)

Thu, 23 May 2013 15:00:41 -0400

zymogen:

now i’m
lifeless—
life lets
me live,

(finally)

eviscerection: by stevenkauk Love the veins in his arms. And...

Thu, 23 May 2013 13:30:27 -0400

eviscerection:

by stevenkauk

Love the veins in his arms.

And those freckles…

Photo

Thu, 23 May 2013 12:00:53 -0400

"Each time I’m asked to tell about myself, I find myself starting the same way: “My name is Kelsey..."

Thu, 23 May 2013 10:30:22 -0400

“

Each time I’m asked to tell about myself, I find myself starting the same way: “My name is Kelsey and I’m nineteen..”
but what I’d really like to say is:
“My name means island of the ships but once
I found a translation that said I’m a burning shipwreck-
not a burning ship but a ship that has caught fire
after the wreckage and well, I’d say that’s more fitting.”

I’ve learned that people don’t have time for about me’s.
They need two things: a name and an indication you’re someone special.

The doctors, they want facts not details.
“I broke my leg when I was three, it’s a funny story actually-“
The right or the left?
Conversation over.

The teachers, they want interests, hobbies.
You’re sad, yes, but what do you like to do?

The adults are a spew of questions.
What school do you go to? What classes are you taking?
What do you plan on becoming? Got a boyfriend?
No, stop.

People my own age are the worst.
“I’m planning on an English degree with a concentration in creative writing.”
Yeah, aren’t we all. So how many times have you, you know,
done it?

I’m pulled apart, my interests travelling highway 2
my goals at a stop light at traffic hour,
my medical history on a billboard for the world to see.
But what about me?

Where’s the chance to say,
“I hang on to fistfuls of poetry like loose change in my pockets,
and I keep waiting for the day that the world turns upside down
so I can swim with the stars.
I’m not afraid of darkness, it’s a loneliness I can empathize with it.
It’s the blackholes like cigarette burns inside of me that get troublesome.
I walk through graveyards and read the dashes between years,
each a story I’ll never know. Sometimes I create my own.”

No wonder none of us know who we are anymore.

”

- Kelsey Danielle, “I Was Told to Write an About Me and This is What Happened” (via amigara)

bjd-resinrome: akubi face by mame3 on Flickr.

Thu, 23 May 2013 09:00:31 -0400

bjd-resinrome:

akubi face by mame3 on Flickr.

lostsplendor: Luray’s Cavern Wishing Well, Virginia, 1974 (via...

Thu, 23 May 2013 07:30:18 -0400

lostsplendor:

Luray’s Cavern Wishing Well, Virginia, 1974 (via Imgur)