End of March

(Source: sendmoremail.blogspot.com)

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James and the giant peach - (Roald Dahl)

(Source: whattostew)

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Darlings, sometimes love will come to you like a fire
to a forest. When it does, be braver than I was. Just leave.
Take only what you can carry. No tears, no second thoughts.
You have hands like tinder boxes, the smallest spark
will kill you.

Get in the car. Take water to the maps. Avoid gas stations.
Don’t look at the flames dancing in the rear view mirror.
Go to new cities, climb on the rooftops and slow dance with
your coldest memories. Wallpaper your new home with every
dusty, desperate love letter you swore you’d never send.

Find a stranger with sharp edges and uncharted hips.
Press your stories into their skin and forget you ever knew
his name. Just promise you won’t think of embers or smoke.
Even when there is ash in your hair. Even when there is soot
in your lungs.

― To Girls Like Me, With Hearts Like Kindling, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)

(Source: clementinevonradics)

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littlecritters:

the white, sleeping town.

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That was the house where you asked me to remain
on the eve of my planned departure. Do you remember?
The house remembers it – the deal table
with the late September sun stretched on its back.
As long as you like, you said, and the chairs, the clock,
the diamond leaded lights in the pine-clad alcove
of that 1960s breakfast-room were our witnesses.
I had only meant to stay for a week
but you reached out a hand, the soft white cuff of your shirt
open at the wrist, and out in the yard,
the walls of the house considered themselves
in the murk of the lily-pond, and it was done.

Done. Whatever gods had bent to us then to whisper,
Here is your remedy – take it – here, your future,
either they lied or we misheard.
How changed we are now, how superior
after the end of it – the unborn children,
the mornings that came with a soft-edged reed of light
over and over, the empty rooms we woke to.
And yet if that same dark-haired boy
were to lean towards me now, with one shy hand
bathed in September sun, as if to say,
All things are possible – then why not this?
I’d take it still, praying it might be so.

A SOFT-EDGED REED OF LIGHT, Julia Copus (via wutheringss)

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lepetitgodet:

St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City

(Source: lepetitgodet)

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sharekoube:

Smoking Children by Frieke Janssens.

A YouTube video of a chainsmoking Indonesian toddler inspired me to create this series, “Smoking Kids”. The video highlighted the cultural differences between the east and west, and questioned notions of smoking being a mainly adult activity. Adult smokers are the societal norm, so I wanted to isolate the viewer’s focus upon the issue of smoking itself. I felt that children smoking would have a surreal impact upon the viewer and compel them to truly see the acts of smoking rather than making assumptions about the person doing the act. ”

There were no real cigarettes on set. Instead, chalk and sticks of cheese were uses as props, while candles and incense provided the smoke.

You can see the making of video here and see more pictures of this project at the artist’s website here.

(Source: kruqaus)

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adrifts:

Daniel R Thompson

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vega-ofthe-lyre:

One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

(Source: eros-turannos)

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atavus:

Ana Mendieta - Silueta Works in Mexico, 1973-77

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heatherwpetty:

Virginia Woolf, 1882-1941

(Source: heatherwpetty)

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vega-ofthe-lyre:

Silence by Thomas Hood

(Source: eros-turannos)

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