The Wanderer. @wandering-chaos - Tumblr Blog

Kinda in love with the idea that different places on other sides of the world can look so similar. Something something universal human experiences

i-am-dulaman

Like. Kyrgyzstan and Switzerland?

Miami and the Gold Coast (in Aus)

New Zealand and Oregon

The great plains and the Russian steppe

India and fiji

i-am-dulaman

Gonna consolidate a couple additions/recommendations from others

Napa Valley, California and Tuscany, Italy

Appalachians in America and the Grampians in Australia

Black sand beach in Iceland and New Zealand

Aurora borealis and australis

Congo and Amazon rainforest/river

i-am-dulaman

desert roads in Australia, South Africa, Argentina, and Mexico

Mountains in France and Korea

deathcomes4u

Call that shit Biomes

heavenhillgirl

The brown bunny (2003), Vincent Gallo

quotemadness

I fell in love the way you fall asleep: Slowly, and then all at once.

John Green (via quotemadness)

thegirlwhocrieswolf

Self-Love for Small-Town Girls

They say in this small town, nothing ever happens here, but you happened. Like a story so good, you can tell it verbatim, like the contents of Pandora’s box, or a bottle smashing onto the sidewalk, you happened. For me you were the only thing that happened. I adored your mind and the way it was always in motion, like a skater skidding on thin ice, carving up what’s left of winter. I adored your glorious bullet points and elaboration. I adored you. Spinning ballerinas in music boxes, spinning grocery carts in empty parking lots, spinning schemes about fast cars and the men who could get us out of here. But they only took us as far as the next town, took us for all we had and left us stranded. Left us to make our own sorry way back home. And you never stopped preaching to me about self-love, even when you despised everything to do with yourself. You told me to keep believing, even long after you had lost hope. You would say, there was always something just up ahead and when you see it, you will know. Just look for a sign. You said it even as we were scouring the littered side streets for discarded lottery tickets, wondering if our numbers would ever come up. You said it while we were picking through trash for cigarette butts, looking for one last drag. And you never once asked me to stay when I was finally shown a way out. You never once said, take me with you. And maybe it had less to with our circumstances and an active choice I made to leave. And maybe love was there in all the time it took me to write this to you.

— Lang Leav