CremeBroulee
"A Tourist is a person who wishes to go home as soon as they arrive. A Traveler, belonging no more to one place than to the next, moves slowly."
- Paul Bowles
CremeBroulee
+
"

How do you survive?

You just do.
There is no other choice,
no other viable options.

You throw yourself into it,
head first
and make a mess along the way.
Gain a few too many scars,
break some things,
mend others.

Eventually,
you find yourself with
a couple of friends
and a few precious tools.

You just have to.
You will.

"
Michelle K., How Do You Recover? pt. 7 (via michellekpoems)
+
flora-file:

kind of blue (by flora-file)
flora-file:

kind of blue (by flora-file)
+
+
type-lover:

Baltimore magazineby Martin Schmetzer
type-lover:

Baltimore magazineby Martin Schmetzer
type-lover:

Baltimore magazineby Martin Schmetzer
type-lover:

Baltimore magazineby Martin Schmetzer
type-lover:

Baltimore magazineby Martin Schmetzer
type-lover:

Baltimore magazineby Martin Schmetzer
type-lover:

Baltimore magazineby Martin Schmetzer
+
hyperallergic:

(via Reckoning with the City in the 21st Century)
Ezra Pound wrote that all great art is born from the metropolis, so it’s no surprise that the metropolis itself has become one of art’s primary motifs. The city has been depicted in ancient Greek and Roman frescoes, late Gothic religious paintings, and Edo-period Japanese prints. In the 20th century, artists like Fernand Leger, Robert Rauschenberg and Ed Ruscha paid it tribute.
READ MORE
+
"October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid’s pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds."
J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (via k217)
+
"Love is happy when it is able to give something. The ego is happy when it is able to take something."
Osho (via celestinevibes)
+
+
"

Landscape by Pablo Neruda

I’ve kept waving goodbye
to the things that were moving away: now
I’d like to recover
the thread of those old valedictions
and look straight into the eye of my losses.

I can’t say that my new melancholia
will be pleasing to many:
I’d rather divide what’s mine
into little pellets,
dropping crumbs in the lap of my path
as I tour the encampment:
I’d like to see if suffering
grows flowers of uncertainty
and corroding bewilderment:
I’d like to know for myself
what color the leaves of abandonment turn.

With the sun looking at us
one way like a tiger enthroned,
demanding a princely
volition to live from the human condition,
I get the craziest hunch of good things to come
and despair of my taciturn habits:
but now as expectancy lessens
I take sadness and share it with all.

"
+
+
snowce:

Frans Lanting, A baby albatross is weighed in South Georgia, 1989
+
+
"my sadness is not
a cut for you to bandage
and it is not
a bruise for you to kiss

i am not waiting
for you to save me
i am hoping you will love me
while i rescue myself"
this is what a hero looks like (via mashamorevna)
+
"Cities have often been compared to language: you can read a city, it’s said, as you read a book. But the metaphor can be inverted. The journeys we make during the reading of a book trace out, in some way, the private spaces we inhabit. There are texts that will always be our dead-end streets; fragments that will be bridges; words that will be like the scaffolding that protects fragile constructions. T.S. Eliot: a plant growing in the debris of a ruined building; Salvador Novo: a tree-lined street transformed into an expressway; Tomas Segovia: a boulevard, a breath of air; Roberto Bolano: a rooftop terrace; Isabel Allende: a (magically real) shopping mall; Gilles Deleuze: a summit; and Jacques Derrida: a pothole. Robert Walser: a chink in the wall, for looking through to the other side; Charles Baudelaire: a waiting room; Hannah Arendt: a tower, an Archimedean point; Martin Heidegger: a cul-de-sac; Walter Benjamin: a one-way street walked down against the flow."
Valeria Luiselli, “Relingos: The Cartography of Empty Spaces” (via invisiblestories)
+