TUMBLR world

This isn't happiness.? Get crunchy. Who's hot or not. COULEURS. Art is a journey into the most unknown thing of all - oneself.

Nobody knows his own frontiers… I don’t think I’d ever want to take a road if I knew where it led. Louis Kahan. Ne t'arrête pas de respirer. Bits&bites. " Between the demand to be clear,and the temptation to be obscure, impossible to decide which deserves more respect.

" E.M.Cioran Hello & welcome to my little queerdome! If you like what you see, do visit : queerest of them all & turnofthecentury & oh! So 30s & Studio Manasse & Nazimova & belgradestreetart [not so] occasionally i check out nomoreheroes as well. Many of these images are from public domain but some of them are owned and © by the respective holders, so please do not remove original credit-artist/source information! These blogs are for academic & educational purposes only and generate no income and probably never will. ==D~~~~ "The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love.

" - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (1927-2014), Love in the Time of Cholera (Source: livefromthenypl, via starmaps) "And at the end of the day, your feet should be dirty, your hair messy and your eyes sparkling. " - Shanti. This isn't happiness.™ Dark Silence In Suburbia. Tasha thehiddensouth: Tasha - Atlanta, GATasha: I’m forty-four and I’ve been in these streets since I was about sixteen.

BW: How did that happen? Tasha: My next door neighbor got me started using drugs. one day I was locked out of my house from school and he offered me some [crack] because he wanted me to have sex with them. After a couple of tries I finally gave in and done it with him. Grayriver.tumblr. La Muse Verte. Sovietunions: one thing i never do is write a rough draft it’s all or nothing go big or go home (via romanvs) Here’s the scenario: two children, one white and one black, walk into an exhibition filled with portraits of white people.

Both children enjoy it. After the exhibition they make self-portraits out of food. (via escuelitaguazabara) I have always loved too much,or not enough. V. sirin. Nabokov hunting butterflies above Gstaad, summer 1971, “as a fat hairless old man in shorts” Hello followers, this is me, the creator, inserting myself Pale Fire-style, into the “narrative.”

Sorry that this tumblr has been fallow for so long. It’s okay if you’ve totally forgotten you’re even following. I should explain why this tumblr even exists. It began as a final project for a memoir class, so it sat in stasis while I waited for it to be graded, and I got distracted by final exams and papers and whatnot. Now the class is over, but this tumblr still exists. The above photo is one I found funny and in my original research. I am usually found tumbling at sarzha. Narcolepsy. Reblololo. Reblololo.tumblr // in the instantly forgettable // Home / Message / Archive / Theme 357 notes 世界中歩いて印象的だったのは、「だらしなく歩くと繁華街に通じる」（中略）逆に、意志的に歩くと宗教施設とか聖なる場所にたどり着く。

（中谷礼仁） 「住宅都市整理公団」別棟 : どうかみなさん「炎上」恐れずフィールドワークを！ (via petapeta) Things laid down. Dear ada. Varia. Musiques. Ne t'arrête pas de respirer. COULEURS. Gh2u. Arsvitaest. Tongue depressors. Vladimir Nabokov. (Fuck, Yeah.) A Writer's Ruminations. Awritersruminations: Hello everyone,My family and I are struggling right now.

My stepdad just lost his job, and we rely on his income. We’re trying to stay in our home, afford the basic necessities, and buy life-sustaining medications. If you can give any amount of money to help, I would deeply appreciate it.Click here to donateAll the best,Caitlin I want to thank everyone who has donated, reblogged, and offered support.

I feel nothingbut pain for the pasttrying to separatelike old clothescrumbling in a chestwhat does not lastfrom what I can keeptrying to understandhow I fellso short of what I intendedto do with my life.How life twists and turnsagainst us. —Sarah Brown Weitzman, from “Looking Back" (via mitochondria) Everything is plundered, betrayed, sold. By day, from the surrounding woods, cherries blow summer into town; at night the deep transparent skies glitter with new galaxies. —Anna Akhmatova, “Everything is Plundered, Betrayed, Sold" (translated by Stanley Kunitz and Max Hayward) [...] Gillo Pontecorvo, La battaglia di Algeri [1966] Alain Resnais, L’année dernière à Marienbad [1961] Commercial posters, [1895-1917]

Ne t'arrête pas de respirer. Decapitate animals.