And it seemed to me that there were fires
Flying till dawn without number
And I never found out things - those
Strange eyes of his - what colour?
Everything trembling and singing and
Were you my enemy or my friend,
Winter was it or summer?
―Anna Akhmatova
- 3 months ago
- 65
Vinyl Cut
Noi.se #23, 2009
Photographer: Moo King
Model: Lisa Porter(via iamthebun, scarymansion)
- 4 months ago
- 412
Music for your Monday: NPR Music is streaming Sharon Van Etten’s Tramp in its entirety. Enjoy!
- 4 months ago
- 113
The Night The Sky Crashed
On a foggy night in Odessa, Ukraine, an electronic billboard ERROR’d, resulting in what appeared to be a floating malfunction window in the sky. Later that night, God rebooted his XP machine and the billboard returned to normal.
(via: englishrussia)
- 4 months ago
- 5009
The “Isms” in Art Form:
Part Three: Relativism
Points of view have no absolute truth or validity, having only relative, subjective value according to differences in perception and consideration. Principles and ethics are regarded as applicable in only limited content
- 4 months ago
- 26
“reading with cats and slipping into ennui, i have a lesson on thermoregulation- i don’t care”
i find inspiration to write when i’m motivated by love. the idea of love, the conceptual, immaterial ball of love, really. this is my need to impress the subject who unknowingly is being violated by the pulling of my heart strings. i don’t know where this is going.
this morning, i had a dream. it was a strange dream experience. not the kind where something extra ordinary happens. i don’t even remember what i dreamt of. but the sensation from the dream is too violating for a wash.
i was completely immersed in the dream world to the point where i had no idea of anything. no idea of a world, or place or a thing beyond this dream world. this was it, it was all i knew. everyone involved seemed and felt so real. my heart, mind and etc felt torturously linked to this land.
when i finally woke up and noticed my apartment, it took my body a few minutes to recuperate, to collect myself, to slip into my skin and breathe.
but who is to say that my life in the dream world is not real? was i given a thirty minutes pass into my life in a different dimension? i was given a pass into my life in a different dimension. i’ll never know.
at least the feeling induced by this dream wasn’t as spine chilling as the one i christened as “the David Lynch directed sleep.” that was terrible. you and your new love were all over it, pulling at my feathers and breaking my beak.
you wouldn’t let me fly.
- 4 months ago
- 2
