This is not fantasy, this is our life.
We are the characters
who have invaded the moon,
who cannot stop their computers.
We are the gods who can unmake
the world in seven days.
Both hands are stopped at noon.
We are beginning to live forever,
in lightweight, aluminum bodies
with numbers stamped on our backs.
We dial our words like Muzak.
We hear each other through water.
The genre is dead. Invent something new.
Invent a man and a woman
naked in a garden,
invent a child that will save the world,
a man who carries his father
out of a burning city.
Invent a spool of thread
that leads a hero to safety,
invent an island on which he abandons
the woman who saved his life
with no loss of sleep over his betrayal.
Invent us as we were
before our bodies glittered
and we stopped bleeding:
invent a shepherd who kills a giant,
a girl who grows into a tree,
a woman who refuses to turn
her back on the past and is changed to salt,
a boy who steals his brother’s birthright
and becomes the head of a nation.
Invent real tears, hard love,
slow-spoken, ancient words,
difficult as a child’s
first steps across a room.
It is truly a strange thing when a steam pipe bursts under an abandoned building in the dead of winter, but that’s exactly what happened under the Clinic Building at Greystone Park State Hospital in 2007, a month before the building was unceremoniously knocked down. The steam congregated near the ceiling of the abandoned asylum infirmary, condensing on the pipes and dripping down in regular patterns - and creating these ice stalagmites. An hour after taking this photograph, demolition workers came into the building and chased us through the tunnels; we had to hide in an attic in 0 degree weather for hours while cops searched for us. The next time I drove out there, there was no trace that a building had ever stood in this spot.
The Wonderful Neo Realism of Eduardo Naranjo
He was distinguished in 1991 as “Extremadura Hoy” and the Gold Medal of Extremadura, and in 1995 was awarded the Military Cross for his contribution to the Arts and the Army.
His work is disturbing and complex. The drawing is perfect, transcendent and illusory to contribute a special light and a colorful austere… It is a metaphorical realism, fantasy and imaginative work. TxT
appreciate brown eyes more bc the people with brown eyes are grown up forcing to believe fuckin blue and green and grey are beautiful and either detest or get incredibly happy when someone compliments their eye color stop letting this happen
there are people with brown eyes reblogging this and theyre talking about still being sad with their eye color and this is exactly why we need hype about brown eyes
People with brown eyes: I felt less like a default and more like my eyes were beautiful because of these two things.
Ochi Chernye - possibly the most beautiful, famous, and romantic Russian language love song about falling in love with someone with dark eyes.
Emily Dickinson quote: “My eyes are the color of sherry left over at night.”
I’ve almost got bloody Betazoid eyes. That’s cool too.
“Killed 99 bears”
a fact that if actually accomplished, should be put on a tombstone.
My favorite part is “We hope he has gone to rest.” What, like… they weren’t sure? Maybe, if ever the bear uprising should start again, he would rise from the ground to finish what he started and slay that 100th bear?
Was this man so powerful they are concerned he might not have decided to rest at all and is simply biding his time?
The bears made that tombstone.
A warning, and a prayer.
That he really, truely stays down.
This is too badass not to reblog.
Reblog for last comment
unseenphil . Right?
a warning and a prayer
Bears are wary of the great hunters. They drank his blood at the burying to show respect and to take on his skill in the hunt, and each year on this date they come here to wait, all night, with their drums, and drum him down into the ground.
The male Baya Weaver has a tiny target as it flies at high speed into its nest which hangs four metres above the ground.Once it has made its way through the entrance, the bird quickly opens his wings as he moves up the tunnel.He had just finished completing the nest, which was weaved together with long grass blades, small rocks and clay.
Picture: Albert Lim S.L./Solent News & Photo Agency (via Pictures of the day: 23 June 2014 - Telegraph)
The word “monster” originally meant “deformed”. A monster could be a two headed calf, conjoined twins or a hideously deformed human infant. It was only in the 20th century that monster came to mean any cruel or alien creature.
You have two options when you’re looking for an apartment in the French Quarter
I literally don’t know which one I would pick.
I need to know more about the haunted option. Is this ghost going to make me tea and warn me of intruders or make creepy groaning noises and hide my keys?
I’ve lived in haunted apartments. Trust me- pick the non-haunted.
Yeah, my cousin’s apartment on St. Ann was not-so-pleasantly haunted. Meh.