ライアン @lucifsleepstonight - Tumblr Blog

babyanimalgifs

“Wanted to surprise but got surprised”

(via)

nintooner

for a better tomorrow

ibuprofengirl

stories where the past is a wound that refuses to heal

ibuprofengirl

ok stories where the past is an itch you keep absentmindedly scratching and wonder why the burning is getting worse

ibuprofengirl

all i’m saying is: the past is a bodily sensation

danger

down-the-rabbith0le

perrfectly

officialiwrotethisforyou

I am in a place of change. I’m not sure what I want from my work right now. I’m reflecting and spending time looking out over my life and what I want to do with it. I discovered a great sense of purpose years ago when I decided that I would make my work about other people and I don’t think I’ll ever lose that. As soon as I let go of my own desire, as soon as I took the focus off myself and turned it back onto the universe, I felt free. I am looking that again and for purpose and a good reason to do what I do. I think I’m finding it and over the next while, I hope I can take you on a journey with me somewhere special. Thank you for coming this far already. - Iain https://www.instagram.com/p/CD_pvYzhOta/?igshid=575yp1jkippg

babyanimalgifs

Absolutely Massive Humpback Whale Breaching

(Source)

officialiwrotethisforyou

A professor walks into a lecture hall, takes out a box of matches and shakes it, and says to the class, “What’s this?” And people yell out, “Matches!” “A box of matches!” “Match sticks!” And he shakes his head and they carry on, “Something to start a fire with!” “A tool!” A metaphor!” And he says, “Wrong. This is what they are.” And he throws the box of matches at a student near the front, who catches it and he says, “That’s what they are.” The word, “matches” or whatever the word is in your language, is just a noise. Just a sound we make with our throat and our tongue and teeth and our mouth. The essence of a thing is not contained within something as trivial as a sound, or in a series of glyphs that make up a word that we might read. And what of the things that are more complicated than a box of matches? What of the things that we can only feel and never point to? What of emptiness? What of joy? What of your child’s first steps? What of the feeling of seeing the streetlights rise up out of the asphalt at night on a lonely road? And what of love? How do we talk about all of these things with something as ill-fitting and useless as words? Maybe that’s why we touch each other, and hold each other and kiss each other. Because the words are useless, we have no matchbox to throw, and yet somehow, we must get the other person to understand that there is something incredible in our chest that yearns for them constantly. https://www.instagram.com/p/B8Rb3UqBJDW/?igshid=pt8uzksy7dc2