‘Gill’ by Sam Haskins (1962, Five Girls publication)
Xuebing Du
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Sade Olutola
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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occasionally subtle
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Love Begins
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oozey mess
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YOU ARE THE REASON
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Janaina Medeiros
Mike Driver
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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art blog(derogatory)

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‘Gill’ by Sam Haskins (1962, Five Girls publication)
Honey, when it comes to love there’s a fire in the deep end of my heart. Giving me the heeby-geebys
Devendra Banhart - Shabop Shalom (via inspired-man)
Our story beings on a Sunday afternoon, just between Halfway Tree and Spanish Town, where a young boy, not yet the cock o'the walk that he would soon become, was lying on the grass and taking in the sweet and sensuous scent of Hibiscus that languidly lilted along the summer breeze. It was at this precise moment that he saw her. Her walk was soft and delicate, with a thaumaturgical touch that only a rabbi’s daughter could have. Before their eyes had even met, her luminous lips had already lured him in. Salvation winked with the promise of a Bris held at pinnacle and a congregation of sage’s bunny hopping and chicken dancing to Yiddish Mento. Then their eyes linked, an aeon blinked, Amharic vows were scryed upon their hearts. Just to think, this all could be with the frenectomy and a few words of love…
“Shabop Shalom,” Devendra Banhart. (via nicklish-tipples)
I will let you drag me to hell if it means you will hold my hand.
(via blindsublimity)
aye 3D art stuff yo #cīga #Agragaatz (at Krogs Aptieka)
Mac Demarco, Ty Segall, and Christopher Owens aka gods
deep shit сигарет 🚬☕️🌿 (at Maskačka)
Indie rock is such a bratty culture, and I don’t see a lot of ugly people in it, either. I feel very proud to be hideous. Thank God I don’t look like every other fucking dude wearing their girlfriend’s fucking jeans out there on stage. That’s weak and emasculated– and I don’t think masculinity is equivalent to misogyny. It just seems like everything is like a cat that’s been declawed– it still tries to fight with you, but it’s harmless. Nobody wants to get scratched.
Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox (via pitchfork)
Bērnības Milicija - Kāda balss kliedz
Kad baloži paceļas spārnos un pamet trūdošās jumtu kores, Tu zini - ir pienācis laiks noskūties un siet kurpju šņores. Rīts iziet ielās ar miglu un drebošiem strādnieku stāviem, Neskaties no rītiem pa logu, bet ej tur, kur tev jāiet. Mans rīts ir mēmais kino slapja asfalta krāsā, Un klavieru vietā man dziesmas spēlē konduktors, kas kāsē. Rīts mīl sētnieku oranžās vestes, rīts mīl, ka tam kasa aiz auss, Un sētnieks, nojaušot to, ka tiek mīlēts, gādā, lai rīts būtu jauks. Mans rīts ir mēmais kino slapja asfalta krāsā, Un klavieru vietā man dziesmas spēlē konduktors, kas kāsē.
Un tumšās parādenēs, daiļā, zūdi tu vairs Vairs neredzēt man tavu gurnu šūpas Bet neesmu pēc dailes nācis šeit Es tālāk soļoju un ieraudzīju žūpas To bija kādi pieci vienuviet Ar acīm sarkanām kā bēdīgs saulesriets Bij polši pievesti, tie stiķēja priekš viena Jo bija vienpadsmit un...