Castleton, Peak District
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

oozey mess
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Misplaced Lens Cap

roma★
One Nice Bug Per Day
Sade Olutola

shark vs the universe
occasionally subtle
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PR's Tumblrdome
h
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
d e v o n

@theartofmadeline

Andulka
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
hello vonnie
Today's Document

seen from Uruguay
seen from Brazil

seen from Belgium

seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Morocco

seen from United States
seen from Japan

seen from T1
seen from Vietnam

seen from Brazil
seen from Pakistan

seen from Pakistan
seen from United States
seen from Vietnam

seen from Bangladesh

seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States

seen from Albania

seen from Bangladesh
@goldenink
Castleton, Peak District
I wonder what he is dreaming about.
@ thewaveshavecome
Alphonse Mucha
My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me. Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? I never know what you are thinking. Think.
T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land (via goldenink)
it never fails that in december i get so restless under the pressure of the impending winter and all its emptiness i have dreams about running away and it takes an explosion to wake me up i am in a continual state of burnout but in a way that pushes me to the edges of things instead of wearing me out and especially now i want to go go go to the point of dragging people around and denying sleep until my body shuts down for so long the sun drops out of the sky twice last night i bought a book hoping i’d actually sit down and read it but i haven’t made it past the page i read in the middle of the bookstore
Written on the Body, Jeanette Winterson
simple as that
http://instagram.com/giftwrappingtags
Jane Crowther - Birdwatching.
i want to flicker out for a few days, let myself dissipate like an extinguished flame and the smoke it leaves behind close the blinds, draw the curtains, complete silence finally one singular moment of peace from heavy footsteps on the stairs a grating, always full-blast, voice across the house the pain of ill-fitting plastic in my ears to muffle whatever it can three days later i’ll resurrect myself slip my feet into woolen socks and warm boots quit my job and set off in pursuit of tall pines, fresh snow, red ribbons sip a cup of coffee by a window and watch blurred figures through the condensation on the glass
Moye Store
“Ringers”. Photographed by Greta Ilieva for Office Magazine F/W 2016
janicebeverly