TVSTRANGERTHINGS
we're not kids anymore.
sheepfilms

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Kiana Khansmith
taylor price

Andulka
No title available
almost home

tannertan36

⁂

if i look back, i am lost
Peter Solarz
cherry valley forever

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
RMH
Game of Thrones Daily
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

pixel skylines
Cosimo Galluzzi
seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from India
seen from United States

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Belgium
seen from India

seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
@live-in-spired
Stop looking for happiness in the same place you lost it.
(via suspend)
When Dean Young Talks About Wine
The worm thrashes when it enters the tequila. The grape cries out in the wine vat crusher.
But when Dean Young talks about wine, his voice is strangely calm. Yet it seems that wine is rarely mentioned.
He says, Great first chapter but no plot. He says, Long runway, short flight. He says, This one never had a secret. He says, You can’t wear stripes with that.
He squints as if recalling his childhood in France. He purses his lips and shakes his head at the glass.
Eight-four was a naughty year, he says, and for a second I worry that California has turned him into a sushi-eater in a cravat.
Then he says, This one makes clear the difference between a thoughtless remark and an unwarranted intrusion.
Then he says, In this one the pacific last light of afternoon stains the wings of the seagull pink at the very edge of the postcard.
But where is the Cabernet of rent checks and asthma medication? Where is the Burgundy of orthopedic shoes? Where is the Chablis of skinned knees and jelly sandwiches? with the aftertaste of cruel Little League coaches? and the undertone of rusty stationwagon?
His mouth is purple as if from his own ventricle he had drunk. He sways like a fishing rod.
When a beast is hurt it roars in incomprehension. When a bird is hurt it huddles in its nest.
But when a man is hurt, he makes himself an expert. Then he stands there with a glass in his hand staring into nothing as if he were forming an opinion.
By Tony Hoagland
i, personally, would love to calm down, and yet
be shocked about everyday acts of racism. Kick up a stink about small incidents of sexual harassment. Be unapologetically indignant about the use of homophobic slurs. Apathy is complicity. It is a dangerous stance to take.