[luthienne]

may I never lose that terror that keeps me brave

Audre Lorde, The Black Unicorn: Poems, “Solstice” (via noorshirazie)

[an-overwhelming-question]

Josef Koudelka - Prague (1968)

[warzonetourism]

My best friends have been killed. I have seen atrocities and have positive proof of wholesale murder. I have sat many times myself shaking in fear of death. I know how to hate – but the bombing I have seen here is the worst atrocity I have even seen. I love life and art and beauty – we all do if we are not sadists.

diaries of Bill Travers upon seeing Hiroshima after 1945.

[farsizaban-deactivated20180323]

Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh of Iran laying flowers at Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia, United States of America (October 30, 1951)

[darkcinemaclub]

Rio de Janeiro 

[creativenomad]

Night life in Mogadishu, Somalia 1980. Stumbled across this on twitter.

[travelerofthepath]

Tell her she is the noor of my eyes and the sultan of my heart.

Hosseini, Khaled - A Thousand Splendid Suns (via elusiveam)

[fitzgeraldquotes]

They were smiling at each other as if this was the beginning of the world.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Love of the Last Tycoon (via tat-art)

[jazzafari]

[girllenin]

there is a feel inside all of our heads. it must be destroyed.

[write20xx]

And how odd it is to be haunted by someone that is still alive.

I Guess the Old You is a Ghost (#589: June 25, 2014)

[historicaltimes]

An Iraqi boy selling oranges in Baghdad during the Gulf War, circa 1991.

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I am all the time thinking about poetry and fiction and you.

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West (via violentwavesofemotion)

[lifeinpoetry]

… and love love is mostly ill-advised but always brave.

Yrsa Daley-Ward, from “artichokes,” bone (via lifeinpoetry)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

She has lovely tragic and despairing expressions that wring my heart.

Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre (via violentwavesofemotion)

[un-gif-dans-ta-gueule]

[milkwolves]

It was as if he had started tiny fires under her skin, tiny currents which kept her awake.

Anaïs Nin (via milkwolves)