let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
will byers stan first human second
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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Discoholic 🪩
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wallacepolsom
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Today's Document
#extradirty
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
PR's Tumblrdome
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Andulka
@theartofmadeline
Show & Tell
Cosmic Funnies
i don't do bad sauce passes
Origami Around
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@findout
I will wade out
till my thighs are steeped in burn-
ing flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
Alive
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
in the sleeping curves of my
body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
Will I complete the mystery
of my flesh
I will rise
After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
E. E. Cummings, Crepuscule
Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame! William Butler Yeats
Reindeer, Murmansk, Russia, 1941 - by Yevgeny Khaldei (1917 - 1997), Ukrainain
Abandoned Soviet Monuments
Niš, Serbia Kosmaj, Serbia Kruševo, Macedonia Kozara, Bosnia and Herzegovina. Zenica, Bosnia and Herzegovina Tjentište, Bosnia and Herzegovina Nikšić, Montenegro Kadinjača, Serbia Podgarić, Croatia Buzludzha Communist Party Headquarters, Bulgaria
Brutalism on steroids.Fascinating.
Before my birth there was infinite time, and after my death, inexhaustible time. I never thought of it before: I’d been living luminously between two eternities of darkness.
Orhan Pamuk, My Name Is Red (via coocoolah)
NatGeo, Best of 2017
No one has imagined us. We want to live like trees, sycamores blazing through the sulfuric air, dappled with scars, still exuberantly budding, our animal passion rooted in the city.
Adrienne Rich, from “Wherever in this city, screens flicker,” The Dream of a Common Language (W.W. Norton & Company, 1978; reissue 1993)
There is heartbreaking beauty everywhere. If you get good at anything this year, let it be learning how to sit under a tree and look at the clouds.
A true solitude is not unbearable since it allows for otherness.
Hélène Cixous, Readings: The Poetics of Blanchot, Joyce, Kafka, Kleist, Lispector, and Tsvetayeva (via heteroglossia)
“My Life Aquatic" shows a series of very diverse hard coral close-ups. Every photograph reveals a fascinating, colorful graphical pattern, which is in fact a colony of tiny little living organisms. The ocean's reefs have been there for millions of years and we should all become aware of that huge hidden treasure chest. The more we are aware, the more we will care.
Silvie de Burie
Walking somewhere in Lisbon... "Because the only hidden meaning of things is that they have no meaning to hide. And stranger than the dreams of all the poets, and the thoughts of all the philosophers, is the fact that things are just as they appear to be; and that there is nothing left to understand" From the Mistery of things, Alberto Caeiro.
It’s funny that in Oslo I found “Tacos 4 Gringos” sold by a Bosnian lawyer and enjoyed by a couple of Mexican Engineers infront of the Nobel Peace Center.
“Group of Florida migrants on their way to Cranberry, New Jersey, to pick potatoes. Near Shawboro, North Carolina” (1940)
Copyright Jack Delano
Rwanda. 2014. Kiki Katese lost her family during the genocide when around one million people died. In theaftermath, she was determined to help survivorsdeal with the trauma. So, she started the first all-women drumming group, where tribal allegiance is left at the door and women stand proudly together. © Michael Christopher Brown/Magnum Photos
Max Richter - Path 5 (delta)
Just slow down and sleep, why don’t you?
Elsa Medina says that her photographs are her right for expression. Sometimes images convey meanings that no words can. She is one of Mexico’s most important photojournalists and has been working extensively at bordertowns following the immigrant routes crossing into the USA.
Somehow today I put together this image of Gail Albert Halaban and a quote I read last year in Valeria Luiselli’s essay Collected Poems which I totally recommend. “The window behind which a man stands is a poem of intimacy, of the free consideration of things. A million windows in the blue sky.” Le Corbusier
It’s strange how the mind works sometimes, perhaps mine is in the blue sky.
