A woman dressed in a traditional Ukrainian embroidered shirt holds her cat as she take part in an embroidered shirt parade in central Kiev, Ukraine, on May 27, 2017. Gleb Garanich
Acquired Stardust
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we're not kids anymore.

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if i look back, i am lost

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RMH
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@fakfa
A woman dressed in a traditional Ukrainian embroidered shirt holds her cat as she take part in an embroidered shirt parade in central Kiev, Ukraine, on May 27, 2017. Gleb Garanich
Do not love half lovers Do not entertain half friends Do not indulge in works of the half talented Do not live half a life and do not die a half death If you choose silence, then be silent When you speak, do so until you are finished Do not silence yourself to say something And do not speak to be silent If you accept, then express it bluntly Do not mask it If you refuse then be clear about it for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance Do not accept half a solution Do not believe half truths Do not dream half a dream Do not fantasize about half hopes Half a drink will not quench your thirst Half a meal will not satiate your hunger Half the way will get you no where Half an idea will bear you no results Your other half is not the one you love It is you in another time yet in the same space It is you when you are not Half a life is a life you didn’t live, A word you have not said A smile you postponed A love you have not had A friendship you did not know To reach and not arrive Work and not work Attend only to be absent What makes you a stranger to them closest to you and they strangers to you The half is a mere moment of inability but you are able for you are not half a being You are a whole that exists to live a life not half a life.
Khalil Gibran (via themotivationjournals)
goodbye, i am starting over somewhere new. thank you for the memories, perspectives, this space of becoming, and kind words shared between us here.
adieu
how do you live through an unreal world?
Pina Bausch, Blaubart (performance), 1977
Back To Black:: Beyonce feat. Adre 3000
flat-p
I try to perform the “blank spaces” that are formed when everything is taken away from people. How do we come face to face with “nothing,” with “emptiness” where there was something earlier? I was a refugee myself for a few years, moving from one country to another, knowing full well that at every juncture I was a guest who at any moment might be asked to leave. The refugee’s world is a portable one, allowing for easy movement between borders. It is one that can be taken away as easily as it was given: provisionally and with a little anxiety on the part of the host.
— Lida Abdul - White House (2005)
we are team
we’re healing here. all of us. i never get very personal, never talk about facts more than i talk about feelings, about emotions. i’m not a selfish person in real life but in writing i am, and i’m realizing that this is nothing to be ashamed of. it’s mother’s day, and mama told me to write slaughterhouse poetry. raw words. things that start with butcher knives and end with massacres. but that’s just it. i don’t have anything left inside of me to pillage. i have lied to myself for so long about so many things that the truest things that i can convey are through fiction. writing about myself no longer seems real. all i know are feelings, sentiments, and the things that keep me up at night. all i know is that the cicadas are coming back this summer. all i know is that everything is returning, that the birds keep flying north and south, that i’m starting to feel okay about saying goodbye to a lot of people because i know that we’ll meet again, sometime soon. time changes a lot of things. people grow, exponentially or glacially. people change according to their environment, adapting to new worlds, new universities, new countries. i read an article about my family that shook me up earlier this afternoon, but i’m learning that people can be different, they can be so different that it surprises you and amazes you and terrifies you. no story is black and white. everything is grey matter and we can never know for sure whose truth is true. my father is a greater man today than he ever was back then. my mother is healing, slowly. we’re all learning how to survive in this world where fewer and fewer people are willing to take a bullet for another. i don’t know myself at all, and it’s both terrible and wonderful that that is the case. but i’m growing. into what? i can’t tell. into who? i will never know. i hope you’re having a wonderful day. i hope you’re healing, whoever you are — wherever you are. i hope that you’re getting enough fluids and eating enough vegetables and that you have regular bowel movements. i hope you’re being selfish, at least for a little bit, because we all deserve it in some way or another. everyone deserves themselves.
To feel this new and unnoticed, like walking down an empty street on the morning of the first warm day of the year. Everything is in its place and your heart is like an open window where all the birds fly right in.
Alice Walker
We act like we are stars; like we are little suns, making our own light and heat and creating life for others. But, we aren’t even planets. Nothing revolves around us. We are moons. Tiny chunks of rock orbiting something bigger than us. Our main function: to reflect the light. That is what we are made for.
Admit something. Everyone you see, you say to them ‘Love me.’ Of course you do not do this out loud: Otherwise, Someone would call the cops. Still, though, think about this, This great pull in us to connect. Why not become the one Who lives with a full moon in each eye That is always saying, With that sweet moon Language What every other eye in this world Is dying to Hear?
Hafiz (via apoetreflects)