(Source: serialstranger, via maowriakim)
My second illustration for the Glamour Magazine horoscope. The Libra girl is wearing Comme des Garcons AW 2012 and has some Tatty Devine sunnies in her hand.
GORGEOUS!
(via placstic)
“I wish I was a photograph tucked into the corners of your wallet.
I wish I was a photograph you carried like a future in your back pocket.
I wish I was that face you showed to strangers when they ask you where you’ve come from.
I wish I was that someone that you’ve come from every time you get there.
And when you get there,
I wish I was that someone that got phone calls and postcards saying “wish you were here.”
I wish you were here.”
— Andrea Gibson, Photograph (via loveyourchaos)
(Source: forgothowtowrite, via loveyourchaos)
When love empties itself out,
it fills our bodies full.For an hour we lie braiding
pulse and skin together,like infants who sigh
and doze, dreamy with milk.— Donald Hall
mere air, these words: Affirmation -
To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the…
(Source: journalofanobody)
mere air, these words: Affirmation -
To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the…
(Source: journalofanobody)
“
I love incorrectly.
There is a solemnity in hands,
the way a palm will curve in
accordance to a contour of skin,
the way it will release a story.
This should be the pilgrimage.
The touching of a source.
This is what sanctifies.
This pleading. This mercy.
I want to be a pilgrim to everyone,
close to the inaccuracies, the astringent
dislikes, the wayward peace, the private
words. I want to be close to the telling.
I want to feel everyone whisper.
After the blossoming I hang.
The encyclical that has come
through the branches
instructs us to root, to become
the design encapsulated within.
Flesh helping stone turn tree.
I do not want to hold life
at my extremities, see it prepare
itself for my own perpetuation.
I want to touch and be touched
by things similar in this world.
I want to know a few secular days
of perfection. Late in this one great season
the diffused morning light
hides the horizon of sea. Everything
the color of slate, a soft tablet
to press a philosophy to.
(via fuckyeahpoetry)
“
I love incorrectly.
There is a solemnity in hands,
the way a palm will curve in
accordance to a contour of skin,
the way it will release a story.
This should be the pilgrimage.
The touching of a source.
This is what sanctifies.
This pleading. This mercy.
I want to be a pilgrim to everyone,
close to the inaccuracies, the astringent
dislikes, the wayward peace, the private
words. I want to be close to the telling.
I want to feel everyone whisper.
After the blossoming I hang.
The encyclical that has come
through the branches
instructs us to root, to become
the design encapsulated within.
Flesh helping stone turn tree.
I do not want to hold life
at my extremities, see it prepare
itself for my own perpetuation.
I want to touch and be touched
by things similar in this world.
I want to know a few secular days
of perfection. Late in this one great season
the diffused morning light
hides the horizon of sea. Everything
the color of slate, a soft tablet
to press a philosophy to.
(via fuckyeahpoetry)
That easy? Let’s try.
(via yourhappyplace)
“Nothing shall hurt us that is of our own nature - we always walk towards ourselves.” — Austin Osman Spare (via cavesoflilith) (via quote-book) (via yourhappyplace)
I’m in love with The Golden Girls.
Watching this show helps me
if I’m down or upset or just want something to watch.
I love watching old shows in general :3
Sometimes they’re just simply the best.
(via thisisthewayeprolls)
“There are rocks deep enough in this earth that no matter what the rupture, they will never see the surface.
There is, I think, a fear of love
There is a fear of love.”
— Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann (via lovebot)