Onvoltooid

Onder de meiboom zitten jonge geliefden fijn lente te zijn. (Hugo Claus)

[kashuto]

Monet’s Garden: Giverny, France

[definalisation]

Want het is een, naar het schijnt, aangeboren en volkomen dwingende behoefte van alle mensen dat elk zijn eigen Ik als een eenheid voorstelt

Hermann Hesse

[latingeek]

[chromauk-blog]

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The car is on fire, and there’s no driver at the wheel And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides And a dark wind blows The government is corrupt And we’re on so many drugs With the radio on and the curtains drawn We’re trapped in the belly of this horrible machine And the machine is bleeding to death The sun has fallen down And the billboards are all leering And the flags are all dead at the top of their poles It went like this: The buildings tumbled in on themselves Mothers clutching babies Picked through the rubble And pulled out their hair The skyline was beautiful on fire All twisted metal stretching upwards Everything washed in a thin orange haze I said, “Kiss me, you’re beautiful - These are truly the last days” You grabbed my hand And we fell into it Like a daydream Or a fever We woke up one morning and fell a little further down For sure it’s the valley of death I open up my wallet And it’s full of blood First song i ever heard that profoundly changed the way i view music, John Peel in the 90s has a lot to answer for! my playlist is now so massive that i can stick shuffle on and not hear the same track for two full years… I listen to music pretty much constantly, at work, in bed, whilst climbing, studying, driving, in the shower, working out. I’m never without a tune! And this is in large down to these Canadians, before i heard this i was fed mass pop over a radio, this changed all that!

[definalisation]

"Historia abscondita -- Every great human being exerts a retroactive force: for his sake all of history is placed in the balance again, and a thousand secrets of the past crawl out of their hiding places — into his sunshine. There is no way of telling what may yet become part of history. Perhaps the past is still essentially undiscovered! So many retroactive forces are still needed!"

Friedrich Nietzsche

[biscodeja-vu]

[unearthedviews]

INDIA. Jodphur. 1996. A fruit vendor plies his wares. © Steve McCurry/Magnum Photos

[shisasan]

When someone seeks,“ said Siddhartha, "then it easily happens that his eyes see only the thing that he seeks, and he is able to find nothing, to take in nothing because he always thinks only about the thing he is seeking, because he has one goal, because he is obsessed with his goal. Seeking means: having a goal. But finding means: being free, being open, having no goal.

Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha (via kittencrimson)

[slanting-deactivated20161226]

Patricia Zhou photographed by Dean Barucija.

[polychelles]

[definalisation]

For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist.

Vladimir Nabokov

[cinemaphiles-blog]

Masculin Féminin (dir. Jean-Luc Godard, 1966)

[red19]

The miniscule matters of the mind, the elementary cognitive processes. Try explaining that at a party. Nobody cares. And why would they? It isn’t the slightest bit of help to anyone. And that’s exactly what makes it perfect for us: It is rarified science. A person can’t be asking themselves the Big Questions in life all the time. You need something minor to get you through the day.

Verhaeghen, Omega Minor (via red19)

[zapcultuur]

‘Als twijfel begeerte is,’ horen we hem zeggen, 'is begeerte dan twijfel? In zekere zin: ja. Wie begeert, staat niet sterk in de schoenen ten aanzien van wat is.’

'Lichtenberg’ - Paul Verhaeghen - 1996 - p. 179.

[brandonharman]

HWY 1 Northern Ca

@brandonharman

[architectureofdoom]

Mercatorplein, Amsterdam-West, H.P. Berlage, 1925-27

[drowsykappa]

She sits up cold white out of reach like a lighthouse. Men’s hands crawl like bugs on the unbreakable glass. Men’s looks blunder and flutter against it helpless as moths. But in deep pitchblackness inside something clangs like a fire engine.

John Dos Passos, Manhattan Transfer (via thealwayshungryboy)