“Life is a question of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which thought hides itself and passion has its dreams. You may fancy yourself safe and think yourself strong. But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play… I tell you, that it is on things like these that our lives depend.”

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via bookmania)

zftw:

someone come play with my hair until the future isn’t scary anymore

15 Apr 14 | 12:36 | 144,653 notes | facinus | zftw

Jun Takahashi 

fastcompany:

Look At The World’s Greatest Skylines Without Any Lights On

In Darkened Cities, the lights from these famous metropolises have been removed, giving you a glimpse at what a city would look like without the power of electricity.

More> Co.Exist

This is the rape joke:
My best friend was four years old the first time his father came into his room at midnight and tore out his throat. He still has days when I cannot hold him because the memory of a bleeding trachea haunts his doorway. He has not been home for the holidays in many years, but – even now – hands are seen as weapons.

This is the rape joke:
I have been told by more than twenty people that they have been raped. To all of them, I asked where the rapist was. From none of them, I heard ‘jail.’

This is the rape joke:
Once my brother told me that I was so ugly, I would be a virgin forever. Unless someone raped me. But even they wouldn’t come back for seconds.

This is the rape joke:
I believed him.

This is the rape joke:
I now look at every woman on the street and wonder if the space between her legs is a crime scene, surrounded by ripped caution tape. The statistics tell me that this is so common that I will never be in a room that does not contain a survivor. Not even if I am in that room alone.

This is the rape joke:
I was thirteen years old, and he was supposed to be just a friend.

This is the rape joke:
When his older brother came home, the boy pulled away. He wiped the tears from my face and said ‘we should do this again some time.’

This is the rape joke:
When I finally told my parents, they asked what I had been wearing.

This is the rape joke:
I had been wearing my innocence. My trust. I had worn the love I held for humanity and expected to be treated well. I had never been taught that I would be that girl, the one who keeps a mine of secrets between her legs – that girl was the slut. I wasn’t supposed to be breakable.
What had I been wearing? I wore the rape joke, then I became it.

This is the Rape Joke | d.a.s

After Lora Mathis’s poem “the Rape Joke

(via animalcell)

luxology:

Language and Chaos (1989-1990), Mike Parr

Mike Parr’s self portrait is one that attempts to map the interactions of mind and body, the conscious and the unconscious. It is not a solipsistic search for the self but rather an attempt to explore the human condition and how the personal informs the political. In his self-portrait prints, Parr takes his own image and twists, stretches and defaces it. They are scratched and scarred; marked by acts of aggression and violence. The concept of identity, then, constantly shifts and mutates — unfolds and buckles. 

floralbb:

These beautiful bubble gardens recently popped up in the streets of Paris to offer passersby a bit of respite from their concrete environs. Designer Amaury Gallon created each bubble sanctuary with a unique environmental inspiration. One hosts a jungle, while another garden features hundreds of amazing orchids woven into the metal structure that frames these transparent igloo-shaped rooms.

source: sustainable design

obamallamatime:

Hello, Police? I accidentally stepped on my cats foot and need to be arrested

cacophagy:

Descent into the Maelstrom for Edgar Allan Poe’s “Tales of Mystery and Imagination”, 1919 by Harry Clarke

11 Apr 14 | 22:18 | 2,761 notes | oxi-n | satyrica

ryaynross:

im in philosophy and were talking about how you can doubt everything’s existence except for your own consciousness and the guy that sits in front of me just turns around tears streaming down his face and goes “i am on so many drugs”

fuks:

wait for it

wankirish