you saw us as a candle. i saw us as the sun.

I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death.

[semioticapocalypse]

Karsten Mielenz. October, 2023

Follow my new AI-related project «Collective memories»

[selfmedicatingwithpie]

[spyrale-deactivated20181121]

Major Motoko Kusanagi by Randall Whiteis

[larmoyante]

I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.

Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis (via larmoyante)

[depression-took-over-my-liiife]

depression blog

[michellekpoems]

People say this body is yours this body is yours but I only seem to love it as a difference, a separation, a division. This body is a home and it is crumbling in my hands. The body is a home and I smell smoke.

Michelle K., The Body. (via michellekpoems)

[hmsg22]

[minimalist-menswear-blog]

minimal blog

Credit: Mt.Tokachi & The Straight Line Road, Hokkaido  (by Kent Shiraishi)

[aumonique]

m i n i m a l

[invocado]

My head has been in the cloud ~ by “Mr. Frego”

[swiftbeat]

[brothermoto]

Beating this summer heat. Who is ready for fall time?

#bmw #bmwmotorrad #r90 #airhead

[rennerei]

Are you coming with me, little buddy?

– venting some fanart needs while trying to get back into painting. I liked this game so much I wanna yell it from the rooftops x’ ( 

[sunnydaysseemfaraway]

[real-demons]

[larmoyante]

The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.

Fernando Pessoa, Book of Disquiet (via larmoyante)

[blazepress]

[w-canvas]