humansofnewyork:

"I like to flip through old books to see if I can find any handwritten notes. Once I found one with a love note from 1917."

humansofnewyork:

"Three thousand years ago I had a disagreement with Zeus about the Trojan War, and he’s been harassing me ever since."
“You were alive three thousand years ago?”
“All of us were.”

weandthecolor:

Inntel Hotel Amsterdam-Zaandam by WAM Architecten

More about the Inntel Hotel in Amsterdam on WE AND THE COLOR.

Architecture on WE AND THE COLOR
WATC//Facebook//Twitter//Google+//Pinterest

(via xxverycomplicatedxx)

nicklugo:

comicsncoolshit:

a bubble freezing at -10º F degrees

a bubble freezing at negative ten degrees Fahrenheit degrees 

nicklugo:

comicsncoolshit:

a bubble freezing at -10º F degrees

a bubble freezing at negative ten degrees Fahrenheit degrees 

(via xxverycomplicatedxx)

humansofnewyork:

"What was the happiest moment of your life?"
“I don’t know.”
“What was the saddest moment of your life?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s your best quality?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s your worst quality?”
“Indecisiveness.”

allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD
allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD
allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD
allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD
allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD
allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD
allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD
allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD
allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD
allmonds:


Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman
Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD

allmonds:

Pastel Icebergs by Zaria Forman

Zaria Forman perfectly masters drawing with pastels. Recently, the artist reveals works representing icebergs. An impressive record, discovered in a series of beautiful images.

OH MY GOD THOSE ARENT REAL IH MY GOD

(via xxverycomplicatedxx)

humansofnewyork:

"I wasn’t lucky enough to have ever found what I wanted to do. Don’t get me wrong— I did nicely. But I never found my passion."

“Tact is the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip.”
— Winston Churchill (via 90sgrunge)

(via itsmeganalison)

What was she like? I’ve waited my entire life to be asked that question. God.
What was she like?

She was beautiful. She tasted like the ocean and smelled like clementines. She wore peach lipstick and brown mascara. On

Sundays she would fill the bathtub with roses and milk. When
it was spring and the air felt raw against your skin, she would

wake herself up at three in the morning and smoke cigarettes
in the balcony. When I gave her roses on some date she gave

them to a homeless man on the way to the restaurant. She wore
dirty sneakers with the words “peace” written in red sharpie and

a white dress that hugged her wide hips to my mothers 58th
birthday party. The one where ladies asked what she was

studying and she replied Art History. She was in Pre-Med at
the top university in New York City. She said things like “we don’t

open the mail on Tuesdays” and “let’s tell the barista you’ve just found out you’re cured from cancer”. When her mother would call

begging her to come to church she would send her poems about
how birds on the telephone line are her religion. She only liked

walking around the city if it rained. What was she like? She went to train stations because she thought the homeless man playing the

violin was the best concert she’d ever find. I often asked her what
she thought of me. Her laugh was like honey. When I took her to my

gallery opening she invited her taxi driver. She had the moon
tattooed on her inner thigh. She spelled the words “infinity” onto

the crook of my neck. I remember once she took a photograph
of an elderly man speaking to his wife at her gravestone.

She called me on the way home: “Well what were you doing at the cemetery?” I asked. “Robert,” She’d said, “Don’t ask such absurd

questions.” What was she like? I woke up alone some mornings.
Her suitcase would be scattered and she screamed because she

couldn’t pay the gas bill. Our lights would turn off. What was she
like? She’d light candles in every single corner of the house. She

would read these big books written by Russian authors who didn’t know the difference between love and lust. “Oh,” She once said,

"And you do?" I laughed. I was so in love with her. The curves of her hip. The smooth tint of her back. Her eyebrows. Her smile. How her

eyes were green sea’s I saw in travel brochures. What was she like? She was the type of person to write you love poetry and bake pies

and convince you that 4:50 AM was the best time of day. What is
she like? And this is the part where my throat will burn and I’ll

scratch my collar bones because how much it hurts,
“Why don’t you ask him” I’ll say. Why don’t you ask

him

— I’m sorry it had to end like this  (via 33113)

(via itsmeganalison)

pallidalunae:

Bathe in the blood of your vanquished enemies.
pallidalunae:

Bathe in the blood of your vanquished enemies.
pallidalunae:

Bathe in the blood of your vanquished enemies.

pallidalunae:

Bathe in the blood of your vanquished enemies.

(via oliviavera)

humansofnewyork:

She asked if I wanted to hear a poem she’d written when she was younger. (At what age, she couldn’t remember) She then recited it from memory. I had her repeat it several times so I could get all the words right:
 

Were I to dream,
then dream I would
of days that have gone by.

Your eyes would gleam
and so would mine,
but joys remembered are no longer mine.

I walk in a garden of memory,
reliving the joys and the sorrows as well.
I walk with a cane down memory lane,
perhaps there, joys remembered will remain.

Perhaps when my hair has turned to gray
and my face is etched with pain,
I’ll walk with a cane down memory lane.
Perhaps there, joys remembered will remain.

oliviavera:

Radioactive (Music Box Version) - Imagine Dragons

by JoshuaSaundersMusic

humansofnewyork:

"I’m currently trying to find my place in the universe."
"What’s been your occupation until now?"
"I’m a photographer."
"Is there a single photograph that you’ve taken which you are proudest of?"
"One time I was photographing from a bridge with a telephoto lens, and I was looking down on a beach. There was this little boy in a cowboy hat playing by the water. I was very patient, and caught this moment when all the adults cleared out of the way, and the tide came in, and the boy was completely alone, surrounded by water. I’ve always viewed it as representative of how we sometimes feel so alone in the world. And when we do, we feel just like a child.”