❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
we're not kids anymore.
Origami Around
NASA
Janaina Medeiros
wallacepolsom
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Keni
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PR's Tumblrdome
RMH
d e v o n
noise dept.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
titsay
shark vs the universe
pixel skylines
occasionally subtle
ellievsbear
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seen from United States
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@lilyofthedeserts
“There’s a Japanese phrase that I like: koi no yokan. It doesn’t mean love at first sight. It’s closer to love at second sight. It’s the feeling when you meet someone that you’re going to fall in love with them. Maybe you don’t love them right away, but it’s inevitable that you will.”
— Nicola Yoon, The Sun Is Also a Star
“Medusa lost her beauty—or rather, it was taken from her. Beauty is always something you can lose. Women’s beauty is seen as something separate from us, something we owe but never own: We are its stewards, not its beneficiaries. We tend it like a garden where we do not live. Oh, but ugliness—ugliness is always yours. Almost everyone has some innate kernel of grotesquerie; even fashion models (I’ve heard) tend to look a bit strange and froggish in person, having been gifted with naturally level faces that pool light luminously instead of breaking it into shards. And everyone has the ability to mine their ugliness, to emphasize and magnify it, to distort even those parts of themselves that fall within acceptable bounds. Where beauty is narrow and constrained, ugliness is an entire galaxy, a myriad of sparkling paths that lurch crazily away from the ideal. There are so few ways to look perfect, but there are thousands of ways to look monstrous, surprising, upsetting, outlandish, or odd. Thousands of stories to tell in dozens of languages: the languages of strong features or weak chins, the languages of garish makeup and weird haircuts and startling clothes, fat and bony and hairy languages, the languages of any kind of beauty that’s not white. Nose languages, eyebrow languages, piercing and tattoo languages, languages of blemish and birthmark and scar. When you give up trying to declare yourself acceptable, there are so many new things to say.”
— What If We Cultivated Our Ugliness?, Jess Zimmerman
“Men fear witches because they take their power from the earth without poisoning the soil.”
— howitzerliterarysociety.
When someone says these days sexism and misogyny don’t exist anymore show them this.
Carnival.
Listen to me. This is your life– no one else’s. At the end of the day, it is you who has to be happy with the choices you are making, food you are eating, things you are doing, goals you are pursuing. Do not let the opinions and judgments of others stop you from doing what you feel and know in your heart is right for you. Eat the food that makes you feel best. Do what makes you feel at peace. Surround yourself with people who make you feel good, who make you laugh, who sincerely make you smile. Go after what you want– not because someone else is telling you to, but because you want to. Listen to that inner voice, trust your gut, and trust yourself.
“Camping With Dogs” Instagram Will Inspire You To Go Hiking With Your Dog
Places where reality is a bit altered:
• any target • churches in texas • abandoned 7/11’s • your bedroom at 5 am • hospitals at midnight • warehouses that smell like dust • lighthouses with lights that don’t work anymore • empty parking lots • ponds and lakes in suburban neighborhoods • rooftops in the early morning • inside a dark cabinet
playgrounds at night
rest stops on highways
deep in the mountains
early in the morning wherever it’s just snowed
trails by the highway just out of earshot of traffic
schools during breaks
those little beaches right next to ferry docks
bowling alleys
unfamiliar mcdonalds on long roadtrips
your friends living room once everybody but you is asleep
laundromats at midnight
what the fuck
galeries in art museums that are empty except for you
the lighting section of home depot
stairwells
•hospital waiting rooms •airports from midnight to 7am • bathrooms in small concert venues
I just got the weirdest feeling I swear
OK LISTEN THERE ARE REASONS FOR THIS!!!
A lot of these places are called liminal spaces - which means they are throughways from one space to the next. Places like rest stops, stairwells, trains, parking lots, waiting rooms, airports feel weird when you’re in them because their existence is not about themselves, but the things before and after them. They have no definitive place outside of their relationship to the spaces you are coming from and going to. Reality feels altered here because we’re not really supposed to be in them for a long time for think about them as their own entities, and when we do they seem odd and out of place.
The other spaces feel weird because our brains are hard-wired for context - we like things to belong to a certain place and time and when we experience those things outside of the context our brains have developed for them, our brains are like NOPE SHIT THIS ISN’T RIGHT GET OUT ABORT ABORT. Schools not in session, empty museums, being awake when other people are asleep - all these things and spaces feel weird because our brain is like “I already have a context for this space and this is not it so it must be dangerous.” Our rational understanding can sometimes override that immediate “danger” impulse but we’re still left with a feeling of wariness and unease.
Listen I am very passionate about liminal spaces they are fascinating stuff or perhaps I am merely a nerd.
I, for one, appreciate your passion for liminal spaces and thank you for explaining it to the rest of us.
Okay, I love everything about this, but is anyone gonna talk about why Target is on the list? I’m not saying it doesn’t belong there, I’m just wondering. Since it’s neither a liminal space nor a place out of context.
Come on, Science Side. Science me.
@silent-wordsmith because it's not target, it's Kmart that should be on this list.
Stories of scars
Scars are like trademarks on your skin. Stories that only you know, that only you felt. You choose to share them with those who will listen. Stories of five year old you climbing a tree. Stories of fifteen year old you tumbling down the hill after your first real kiss. Stories of twenty year old you cutting your hands on glass. But we never share stories about the bruises. The ones left on your inner thigh that you never wanted to fade. The ones you touched with a slight smile, remembering the tender grip, imagining his fingertips bringing that much blood to the surface. The same bruises that faded just as quickly as his smile. We don’t share the stories of the goosebumps. The chills you got when he first touched your lips and the same chills you got when you first watched him walk away, and he had never looked at you with such sadness. You never told the story of how your knees buckled. Or how you never fully caught your breath after one too many blows. How you adjusted your lungs to the shallow breath because air just wasn’t enough anymore. Instead you’re expected to smile when he puts a finger to your mouth, seeing the little scar for the first time, and he doesn’t want to ask what happened, he expects a laugh and a story to start with, “when I was eight I thought it was a good idea.." But you don't laugh, or break a smile. You expect him to kiss the scar and understand without needing to tell him, because you never told anyone. His finger leaves your mouth, and you check off another set of chills that will never be talked about.
Always the best time with this lover @karen_thinks_abby_is_awesome (at Madrid, New Mexico)
what do you see?
All the eyes widened and gazed my way on the packed streetcar as I chose my seat. I chose it and sat, all eyes, all the more wider. I chose the seat next to the tall, lanky black man with all the tattoos visible under his New Orleans winter/rain gear. Imagine those tattooed hands (done oh-so poorly in my already tattooed opinion!) The old lady kept a close eye on us (i could have sat by her!) but didn't say or do anything. I chose my seat for one of many reasons: I figured he was local, not going to ask me to take my ear buds out to explain the next hotel on the street, where to eat, or where they need to get off to see popular cemeteries. Not to mention- he left the most room on the small two-seater bench they give us, didn't make eye contact and assumed (probably) no one would sit next to him in the sea of white, well dressed folk that surrounded him. Until I sat down, skipping over the curly-haired man, the timid looking pale girl in her summer dress (as it sheets rain and lightning in this New Orleans regular fashion), and the white haired older lady who is watching me like a hawk, making sure this young man I've decided to sit by, ("why-oh-why!!" she must me thinking!) doesn't pull anything funny. He smiles at me as I sit, not kindly, only in acknowledgment, as I shove the rain soaked hood from my head. He closes his legs just a tad, giving me more room than the mousy girl in her sundress, the old lady with her judgmental eyes, or the curly haired man (sitting, didn't I mention, in the elderly/handicap seats) combined. We sit in silence, but every once in a while he tips his phone in my direction, showing me what he's listening to, and if he happens to look down, I do the same, shameless of my obsession of a cover of Hello by Adele. It's my stop and I jump off the streetcar without a hesitation besides a sideways glance back, and I'd like to believe that through the foggy windows and pouring rain, he's smiling that a petite curly-haired 'white' girl chose to cut next to a frowning man covered in what we call 'jail tats' from head to toe, with no hesitation. Most likely, he didn't even realize this situation even happened. #racismisreal #knowyourpriviledge
The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
Witches confused by their own magic. Witches displeased by their own perfume...
Just got a letter in the mail "Dear auntie Liz, you're pretty. -Emma" ❤️
