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This isn't happiness.? Get crunchy. Who's hot or not. COULEURS. Ne t'arrête pas de respirer. Bits&bites. “I’ve been collecting anonymous photographs for many years.


During a retreat on the Toronto Islands, I had all these pictures and thought about these lost identities. Photography has this innate promise that we can take a picture of someone and keep it. But overtime, these pictures somehow become dislodged from their origins, and the people photographed are lost. There’s a theory from ancient times that says, ‘To capture a memory is like trying to capture a bird in an aviary of birds. Most of these works are made from cartes de visite, which is a 19th century photographic process invented by André Disdéri in France.

During the Victorian period, photographers would go out into the world and use cameras to capture everything: animals, exotic people and places. I started looking at this idea of how the camera aided colonization: our sense of entitlement over other beings and creatures without a critical understanding of what that entitlement meant. The image is almost life-size. ==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) This isn't happiness.™ Dark Silence In Suburbia. Fortunis Licetus De Monstris Fortunio Liceti (1577-1657) was an Italian philosopher, doctor and scientist.

Dark Silence In Suburbia

He studied medicine and philosophy at the University of Bologna before becoming a lecturer of logic at the University of Pisa and then a professor of philosophy at the University of Padua. Liceti was omnivorous in his interests writing books on mathematics, philosophy, astronomy, genetics and disease. He was friends with Galileo and the mathematician Bonaventura Cavalieri, who once remarked that Liceti was such a prodigious scholar that he produced a book a week. It’s certainly true that Liceti did have a rather impressive output of scientific and philosophical texts during his life ranging on subjects as diverse as the immortality of the soul, gem stones and the causes of headaches (which he thought were the microcosmic equivalent of lightning). 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.

La Muse Verte

Both children enjoy it. After the exhibition they make self-portraits out of food. 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.”

v. sirin

Sorry that this tumblr has been fallow for so long. It’s okay if you’ve totally forgotten you’re even following. Narcolepsy. Reblololo. Things laid down. Dear ada. Varia. Pictured above, Robert Duncan (born 7 January 1919; died 3 February 1988), in a 1985 photograph by John Tranter The Temple of the Animals The temple of the animals has fallen into disrepair.


The pad of feet has faded. The panthers flee the shadows of the day. The smell of musk has faded but lingers there… lingers, lingers. Were there rituals I had forgotten? I have seen the animals depart, forgotten their voices, or barely remembered — like the last speech when the company goes or the beloved face that the heart knows, forgets and knows — I have heard the dying footsteps fall. Musiques. Clara BacouDr.


Rosenhan'Dr Rosenhan' is an illustrated short, telling the story of renowned psychiatrist David Rosenhan who was able to demonstrate in his famous social experiment that the medical approach to abnormality is wholly unreliable. He was part of the anti-psychiatry movement who fiercely criticised the medical model during the 1960s. Ne t'arrête pas de respirer. COULEURS. Gh2u. Arsvitaest. Tongue depressors. Vladimir Nabokov. (Fuck, Yeah.) Documentary following writer and broadcaster Stephen Smith on the trail of Vladimir Nabokov, the elusive man behind the controversial novel and 1962 film, Lolita.

Vladimir Nabokov. (Fuck, Yeah.)

The journey takes him from the shores of Lake Geneva to Nabokov’s childhood haunts in the Russian countryside south of St Petersburg to the streets of New York City and a road trip through the anonymous world of small-town America. Along the way Smith meets fellow Nabokov admirer Martin Amis and puts in a cheeky visit to Playboy’s literary editor who is publishing an extract of Nabokov’s last work. A Writer's Ruminations. Awritersruminations: Hello everyone,My family and I are struggling right now.

A Writer's Ruminations

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. [...] Gillo Pontecorvo, La battaglia di Algeri [1966] Alain Resnais, L’année dernière à Marienbad [1961]


Ne t'arrête pas de respirer. Decapitate animals.