September 21, 2014
"You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart."

Franz Kafka (via fckypym)

(via nuncaserasmasjovenquehoy)

September 21, 2014
"In spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody. The essential substance of every thought and feeling remains incommunicable, locked up in the impenetrable strong-room of the individual soul and body. Our life is a sentence of perpetual solitary confinement."

— Aldous Huxley (via petrichour)

(Source: withveritaserum, via fuckyeahexistentialism)

September 21, 2014

(via nuncaserasmasjovenquehoy)

September 21, 2014
luzfosca:

Robert Doisneau
Leçon de vélo [Bike Lesson], 1961.
source

luzfosca:

Robert Doisneau

Leçon de vélo [Bike Lesson], 1961.

source

September 21, 2014
classyscoundreliam:

womenlaughingalonewithsalad:

My painting, ‘Laughing While Eating Salad’, inspired by the Women Eating Alone With Salad website. Part of a recent series ‘Appetite’ in which women forget social etiquette & advance aggressively upon the edible!
www.roxanahalls.com

My life

classyscoundreliam:

womenlaughingalonewithsalad:

My painting, ‘Laughing While Eating Salad’, inspired by the Women Eating Alone With Salad website. Part of a recent series ‘Appetite’ in which women forget social etiquette & advance aggressively upon the edible!

www.roxanahalls.com

My life

September 21, 2014
wnderlst:

Bolu, Turkey

wnderlst:

Bolu, Turkey

(via cozyautumnevenings)

September 21, 2014

(Source: pinterest.com, via nuncaserasmasjovenquehoy)

September 21, 2014
"I’ve said it before but I’ll say it
again, for the sake of this poem.
I am not the kind of person that
things happen to.
I am not the kind of person that
things happen to, so I make it up.
I draw the dragon and then I
jump on its back.

I take a feeling and I say
‘Do something! Become something!
Help me or go away!’

There’s usually a boy. Sometimes
not. Either way, there’s someone
and they’ve hurt me.
There’s someone and they don’t
love me back,
because that’s what I want. That’s
my poetry.

I’m sorry, you know? I don’t know
what to do with the ones who have
already been here, so I pretend.
I play dolls. I change their names
and their clothes and their stories.

Call me what you want. I know
what the truth is. I know what to
put in between the lines to make it
sting like a real thing.
I know how to make myself better.

Still, I wish I could touch my
own heart instead of writing about
what it must feel like.
I wish I could do anything without
faking it.
What’s left to be honest about,
if not this? What’s left?

When things don’t happen,
I kick up the dirt, I blow on the
dust, I shake the snow globe.
So what if dragons aren’t real?
I bet you wish they were.

"

Caitlyn Siehl, Drawing the Dragon (via alonesomes)

(via androidals)

September 21, 2014

(Source: andshakeitoffs, via tswiftdaily)

September 21, 2014

englishsnow:

kevin russ

(via golden-autumn)

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