noise dept.
One Nice Bug Per Day
art blog(derogatory)
sheepfilms
YOU ARE THE REASON
occasionally subtle
Doug Jones

pixel skylines

#extradirty
Cosimo Galluzzi

Jimmy Eat World
Monterey Bay Aquarium
No title available

Kiana Khansmith
Keni

Origami Around
ojovivo
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Show & Tell
tumblr dot com
seen from China

seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Algeria
seen from Argentina

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ecuador

seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from Colombia

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@thesedancingdays
Ingmar Bergman
real asf
Some stars from my journals
‘tis.
inst: cultur.space / culturfits
ig: keziacook
#girl #fridge
poem by mosab abu toha pasted to ironwoodfarmny’s truck traveling from Ghent, NY
“You notice it first as April ends and May begins, a change in the season, not exactly a warming—in fact not at all a warming—yet suddenly summer seems near, a possibility, even a promise. You pass a window, you walk to Central Park, you find yourself swimming in the colour blue: the actual light is blue, and over the course of an hour or so this blue deepens, becomes more intense even as it darkens and fades, approximates finally the blue of the glass on a clear day at Chartres, or that of the Cerenkov radiation thrown off by the fuel rods in the pools of nuclear reactors. The French called this time of day “l’heure bleue.” To the English it was “the gloaming.” The very word “gloaming” reverberates, echoes— the gloaming, the glimmer, the glitter, the glisten, the glamour—carrying in its consonants the images of houses shuttering, gardens darkening, grass-lined rivers slipping through the shadows.”
— Joan Didion, Blue Nights (via thebluesthour)
Sometimes things don’t work out. It’s ok I don’t need to catastrophise. The world will keep turning. Dinner needs to be made. I get to tuck myself into bed. I am feeling vulnerable tonight and that’s okay .
*
haruki murakami, norwegian wood
Egyptian colossal of Ramesses II and the goddess Sekhmet, dating to 1279-1213 BCE. Quartzite.
Cyclists
cook islands, 1974