(via commovente)

(via metanoiametanoia)

Ken Price

(via velvetdrug)

  • WiFi: connected
  • Me: then fucking act like it


Mark Rothko, Yellow, Cherry, Orange,1947

(via squeats)


Postcards For Ants, Lorraine Loots

(via marinahanna)

But that’s the wonderful thing about foreign travel, suddenly you are five years old again. You can’t read anything, you have only the most basic sense of how things work, you can’t even reliably cross the street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.

Bill Bryson, Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe (via universesbetweenus)

(via aconstantbecoming)

How was life before Pop-Tarts, Prozac and padded playgrounds? They ate strudel, took opium and played on the grass.

Jennifer Michael Hecht (via observando)

(via coffeeandclifbars)

(via a-harlots-progress)