New age tales with a vintage feel

Romantic, nostalgic, idealistic impressionistic, decadent, existentialistic, expressionistic - thoughts, poems and stories of captivated ancient souls making their way through the perrils of modern times.

[nouveau-deco]

Art-Nouveau architecture in Palma de Mallorca, Spain (by twiga_swala).

[newagetales]

When you want to write, you first have to catch the right vibration of feeling in the air, matching the right vibration of feelings in you heart. Once you catch it, don’t let it go, hold on to it until you’ve made love with a pen and paper, and when it’s done, thank it with all your heart, leaving it open for next time when it will want to visit you again…

- newagetales

[escapetraveldream]

[newagetales]

God I love Paris!

[lottereinigerforever]

"Vertigo" US poster

[newagetales]

Live the full life of the mind, exhilarated by new ideas, intoxicated by the Romance of the unusual.

Ernest Hemingway

[i-am-evolution]

Talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense, and I’ll kiss you for it.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment (via playthehardsix)

[itsquoted]

Depth of friendship does not depend on length of acquaintance.

Rabindranath Tagore (via aestheticintrovert)

[newagetales]

Poem: “The Journey,” by Mary Oliver, from Dreamwork (Atlantic Monthly Press).

The Journey One day you finally knew  what you had to do, and began,  though the voices around you  kept shouting  their bad advice— though the whole house  began to tremble  and you felt the old tug  at your ankles.  "Mend my life!"  each voice cried.  But you didn't stop.  You knew what you had to do,  though the wind pried  with its stiff fingers  at the very foundations,  though their melancholy  was terrible.  It was already late  enough, and a wild night,  and the road full of fallen  branches and stones.  But little by little,  as you left their voices behind,  the stars began to burn  through the sheets of clouds,  and there was a new voice  which you slowly  recognized as your own,  that kept you company  as you strode deeper and deeper  into the world  determined to do  the only thing you could do— determined to save the only life you could save.

photo by Christian Coigny, 2008

[newagetales]

Monday morning hangovers

We were just so crazy running from here to there, trying to hold sunsets  in the palms of our hands, but nothing would last, not even Monday morning hangovers.... So we would drink beer and laugh to nonsense and look into each others eyes and not know what we would see and we would touch each others bodies and not know what we would feel We would go on the streets at night to drive our motorbikes through all the unlit roads, passing all the Cicle K's and Mini marts the more we sought for stars the more they were left unseen. So we would sit and stare at parks and football fields, watching children play, asking ourselves what does it all mean But no one would answer so we would spend more money on gas and plane tickets and travel far and eat shitty food all for what? Just a feeling of ease? But ease is nothing more than a breeze, it comes and goes just like my heart, it never knows what is the end and what the start it's always, always, just confusion mixed with the sky, mixed with summer and broken knees, which pain is so stiff and yet so smooth like the warm blood slowly  dripping down your legs, such an intimate feeling  you can't share with anyone, otherwise they will think you're insane. So we wipe off the blood and rub it between our fingers and pick ourselves up, anyway when we can feel the distance the pain goes away But we love to stay close to danger, to heat, to sex, to whatever brings us back to Monday morning hangovers...

[newagetales]

I want to fall asleep in myself and wake up inside of you.

Leilani

[bailandoenelmonte]

[vaslavasimborska]

[newagetales]

There is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt. It is a duty to take this risk, to love and feel without defense or reserve.

William S. Burroughs  

[newagetales]

I used to be the poem, but now I'm just the poet.

Leilani

[newblogisjacindaelena]

 Anna Doshina

[newagetales]

Human innocence is the most forgetful thing in the world, it always gets lost somewhere!

laleex

[newagetales]

The purposeful purposelessness There are people  in this world  who know exacty  what they want.  Those people  go to school with purpose,  go to work with purpose, buy things with purpose  and go to the grave  having fulfilled their purpose. And then there is us,  who don't want anything  lest to be anyone.  Labels bring us unease,  titles anxiety.  We do not wish  to posses iphones,  we do not know  what to do  with branded clothes.  We love life,  but even more than living we love observing.  To us sight is art, art is being  stuck in traffic  surrounded by  hundreds of cars  and motorbikes,  hundreds of eyes  and legs and arms  and hearts,  all striving towards  the same direction.  Art is  the horrible smell when entering  the grocery store,  art is your mother cooking,  chopping, mixing, blending,  your cat chasing bugs, sneaking where it's not allowed to,  meowing, spanking, cuddling,  scratching, eating, stretcing, sleeping.  Art is the wind blowing  your freshly combed hair  into your mouth, the first look your share  with a stranger's eyes art is when the sky is painted grey and you feel so sad because of the rain, so you go back home in the middle of the night being afraid that it might just have been the best day of your life.  Double Exposure Portraits 2013 Tamara Lichtenstein