Delirious Daisy
.
couldn't stop spinning her head
.
around and around

tannertan36
tumblr dot com
cherry valley forever
styofa doing anything
Game of Thrones Daily

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Claire Keane

PR's Tumblrdome
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
dirt enthusiast

Origami Around

oozey mess

titsay
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

JBB: An Artblog!
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Discoholic 🪩
No title available

pixel skylines
Monterey Bay Aquarium

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Japan
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Italy
@paradiseisforunicorns
Delirious Daisy
.
couldn't stop spinning her head
.
around and around
art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.
banksy (via visual-poetry)
@TechnicallyRon used Google autocomplete to write a dating profile.
Meltdown, Simone Rosenbauer
Grow where you’re planted
Her smoke rose up forever, Josephine Cardin
Kill me
»most americans« by zach urbina (+)
Over the Moon
How much does *what* cost?
The best place to be is somewhere else.
And art, whether writing or painting or music—art, in whatever man-made form—unifies the split mind, I think, and brings us in direct contact with the other, where we might recognize ourselves and feel love and empathy, compassion, understanding, patience, hope. - David Gilbert
http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/rear-window
“I’m not totally mad at you. I’m just sad. You’re all locked up in that little world of yours, and when I try knocking on the door, you just sort of look up for a second and go right back inside.”
Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
"Ships that pass in the night"
still from I May Have Lost Forever My Umbrella by Johan Grimonprez
Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
Kafka on the shore by Haruki Murakami
but thanks anyway