☹☹☹

[lacollectionneuse]

classic tabi boots with stacked cylinder heel (eu 40) • martin margiela £99

[jjjjjjjjjjohn]

[thirdlooks]

[thefakeoriginal]

[franzkavkas]

Naturally, I have no plans at all, no prospects at all, I cannot step into the future; crashing into the future, hurling myself into the future, stumbling into the future, those are things I can do; and best of all, I can lie still. But plans and prospects—I truly have none; when things go well, I am entirely absorbed by the present; when things go badly, I curse even the present, and most assuredly the future!

Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice (via franzkavka)

[betonpaper]

beton issue one “unorthodox” release at Wer-Haus, Barcelona.

[styleminimal]

[watchoutforintellect]

Another mild, orange-gold October day.

Sylvia Plath - from a letter to her mother featured in Letter Home (via exoticwild)

[wehaveallgotknives]

On Thursday, just as I am saying goodbye to Margaret Atwood at the end of our interview, I get a text message. “Oh,” I say. “Bob Dylan’s won the Nobel prize.” She is about to have her photograph taken, and is arranging a rakish grey felt hat atop her steely curls. She looks at me, opens her mouth very slightly, and widens her eyes. They are the faintly unrealistic blue of a Patagonian glacier. “For what?” she says, aspirating the word “what” with devastating effect.

Margaret Atwood’s lack of patience with sloppy male writers is just!!! The best!!! I love her!!! (via wehaveallgotknives)

[kafkas-diaries]

20 October. I am afraid of the almost physical strain of the effort to remember, afraid of the pain beneath which the floor of the thoughtless vacuum of the mind slowly opens up, or even merely heaves up a little in preparation. All things resist being written down.

Franz Kafka, Diaries (via kafkas-diaries)

[pastelotus]

🌸🌼🌺

[kafkas-diaries]

18 October. It is entirely conceivable that life’s splendor forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness, but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there, though, not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right word, by its right name, it will come.

Franz Kafka, Diaries (via kafkas-diaries)

[death-by-elocution]

[jyxchen]

[alartemagazine]

[hplyrikz]

This will make you feel better

[thevamoose]