here's to the morning mist...

"There is one spectacle greater than the sea: That is the sky; there is one spectacle greater than..."

Sat, 18 May 2013 15:56:26 -0400

“There is one spectacle greater than the sea: That is the sky; there is one spectacle greater than the sky: That is the interior of the soul.”

- Victor Hugo, Les Miserables (via kaylinviazanko)

Please,

Sat, 18 May 2013 10:49:11 -0400

like this post if going through your blog makes you happy. If it cheers you up.
Bonus points if your tumblr looks nothing like mine.
You can drop recs in my ask box, too.
I’m just trying to bring a bit more happiness to my dashboard.

thequietrabbit: no.53 - believe in your colors & radiate.

Sat, 18 May 2013 10:43:28 -0400

thequietrabbit:

no.53 - believe in your colors & radiate.

Photo

Tue, 14 May 2013 22:34:31 -0400

Jersey shore, 1942 (by kramer_nj)

Sat, 11 May 2013 14:16:23 -0400

Jersey shore, 1942 (by kramer_nj)

Photo

Thu, 09 May 2013 23:10:56 -0400

pattiocleavis: To A Poet, First Aid Kit

Tue, 07 May 2013 20:15:38 -0400

pattiocleavis:

To A Poet, First Aid Kit

beautifulcentury: Frolicking in the sea by sctatepdx on...

Sat, 04 May 2013 22:32:44 -0400

beautifulcentury:

Frolicking in the sea by sctatepdx on Flickr.

Wernicke's Area

Sat, 04 May 2013 22:32:04 -0400

I need to read more poetry. I need to stop feeling guilty for not finishing books. Words are a thing of beauty, words are flowers and I’m a butterfly, words are to be savoured.

But also, words are tears and I’m a five-year-old who just scratched her knee. As they leave me they make me more full instead of more empty.

I ingest words as sugar and as I purge myself of them they’re full of salt.

Each word has its place in my brain but I will never know what that place is and if it’s anything like in other people’s brains. I learned that today. I learned about the things no one knows yet and the things no one will ever know. It’s called neuroscience, and I can’t decide if it’s bullshit or if it’s fascinating. I suppose it’s fascinating bullshit.

I don’t know what I am saying. There’s my Wernicke’s area acting out again.

"The trouble with fiction is that it makes too much sense. Reality never makes sense."

Sat, 04 May 2013 10:15:00 -0400

“The trouble with fiction is that it makes too much sense. Reality never makes sense.”

- Aldous Huxley (via lionskeleton)

firsttimeuser: Édouard Boubat

Fri, 26 Apr 2013 06:49:17 -0400

firsttimeuser:

Édouard Boubat

Feeding pigeons at Lustgarten, Berlin (1934)

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 08:28:31 -0400

Feeding pigeons at Lustgarten , Berlin (1934)

thesocrateclub: Near Inverness by liquidnight on Flickr.

Sat, 20 Apr 2013 16:53:45 -0400

thesocrateclub:

Near Inverness by liquidnight on Flickr.

It's springtime again.

Sat, 20 Apr 2013 11:50:00 -0400

Springtime means rebirth. It means cleaning your flat and getting your eyes on a piece of paper on which you’d scribbled a story in the fall. It means reading it: having your stomach flutter and your eyes water. It means being knocked breathless by the realisation that you can write words that aren’t perfect but that aren’t completely shitty, either. It means smiling disbelievingly and whispering to yourself, alone in your flat, “Good job, honeybee.”

Because it’s springtime and you’re an infant again. You’re lost, and you deserve your own guidance. You deserve your own support. You deserve your own love. You’ve done this before. You can do it again this year. You can do it better. You can grow back into a believer.

Now, step outside and feel the warmth of the spring’s wind. Look at the grey of the sky. Look at the burgeoning flowers. Be amazed at how much a warm spring day in the city resembles a cold summer day at the seaside.

Smile.

Photo

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 11:33:54 -0400

thesocrateclub: The Little Visitor by liquidnight on Flickr.

Sat, 13 Apr 2013 22:20:55 -0400

thesocrateclub:

The Little Visitor by liquidnight on Flickr.

“Sisters Grimm, can I tempt you?”

Thu, 11 Apr 2013 15:31:56 -0400

“Sisters Grimm, can I tempt you?”

Plenty of grain and a little love

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 22:24:25 -0400

Plenty of grain and a little love

Scraps

Sun, 07 Apr 2013 22:16:13 -0400

It was one of those nights filled with lots of giggles and lots of thoughts, spent in good company and inappropriate clothes.

The sunlight shifted through the library window; my friend moved up a few seats to finish her reading basked in the golden light. The sunset made the big window glimmer. I wondered if everyone noticed these things too. I wondered what other people were noticing that I was missing out on.

We moved big wooden chairs and tables through a pub’s narrow hallways. We had sangria and wacky poutine. We talked about first impressions.

She bought five balls of lettuce for 2,50$. She gave me one. I later found myself running uphill in my stupid skirt and heeled boots, 20kg on my back and a ball of lettuce in my hands, laughing maniacally, hoping with all my heart and all my lungs to catch the bus.

We talked about symbols and why the girls had cried and whimpered and yelled and laughed when we thought they’d be dancing. I thought I saw a ghost, but she was real and she was not dead.

We played badminton because it’s such a logical thing to do at 10pm, wearing a skirt and stockings and no running shoes. We laughed so much our bellies ached. ‘Teasing’ is a nice word. By the force of miracles, my stockings didn’t tear. I said, “You’re getting beat by a skirt and ruffles!”

Take your ghosts to the seaside

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 20:46:00 -0400

Take your ghosts to the seaside