[newyorker]

This week’s cover: Christoph Niemann’s “Trompe-l’Oeil”

The artist Christoph Niemann’s latest cover, for the Mind Issue, winks at you. 

Read more about how our winking cover came together, here. 

[gustavklimt-art]

Two Girls With An Oleander (?)

Gustav Klimt

[dirthavarens]

Visit Original Link

The Vaccines–Post Break-Up Sex

[fuckyeahtattoos]

Done by Nigel Hirschi at High Noon Tattoo in Phoenix, AZ

[wsabe-deactivated20150709]

There is nothing sweeter in this sad world than the sound of someone you love calling your name.

truth (via wsabe)

[digg]

these are the only good kind of frosted tips tbh

[africant]

[subwaytoken]

The Parent Trap (1998)

[unknownalexx]

sometimes I crave to watch this movie

[apoempornographic]

Kiss me, so that when one hand finds it’s way down between your thighs and the other presses gently at the sides of your throat, no one will ever know what we are doing. Moan into my mouth, and shake not, my love, as you I press against walls in dark rooms and quiet corners, as I remind you with hands and tongue of all the ways that you are mine.

[slimeseasonn-blog]

[gobe]

“Last night I photographed a Barn Owl hovering above prey at a local farm where I have been baiting them for some time, I did attempt this last winter but failed due to the lens misting, still a work in progress” ~ Roy Rimmer

[bismal]

[humansofnewyork]

“My father was killed in a suicide bombing in 2003, while he was attending Friday prayers. We were at home. We’d prepared a lunch for him and were expecting him any minute. Suddenly our relatives began calling to ask if he’d been at the mosque. He left us a small, sweet message before he died. He said: ‘I love you all and follow what I taught you.’ The ambulance driver told us that he refused to be taken away, and that he insisted they treat other people first. We believe he was martyred. And we believe that those who are martyred never die. We think he’s still with our family and shares our concerns. Whenever I am tense or nervous, or achieve something big, I smell him. He had his own smell. I don’t know how to describe it.”

(Karachi, Pakistan)

[ghosts]

[thegradgirl]

One of my favourite bookish spots in London, the Southbank book market. A treasure chest of second hand, first editions and rare books. Book hunting here with the London skyline in the background is always an afternoon well spent.

[broken-crayonsstillcolor]

[sentetikorfe]

[teachingliteracy]

sentetikorfe