drewwilsonphoto:

there a sense of calm like we’re in the eye of a hurricane. a sense of freedom like we’re navigating the open sea. there’s a sense of lust like the wine is controlling our minds. and it’s in this stillness we share that everything becomes clear. the light grows more vivid. specially as it crawls across your soft skin.

bryonypimble:

Visuals / Collage

scurviesdisneyblog:

Peter Pan rough sketches by Milt Kahl (x)

moetu:

delpozo spring 2015 / the water lily pond (detail) by claude monet, 1904

skaodi:

Details from Yulia Yanina Spring 2016 Couture.

What if we shift the question from ‘who do I want to be?’ to the question, ‘what kind of life do I want to live with others?’? It seems to me that then many of the questions you pose about happiness, but perhaps also about ‘the good life’ – very ancient yet urgent philosophical questions – take shape in a new way. If the I who wants this name or seeks to live a certain kind of life is bound up with a ‘you’ and a ‘they’ then we are already involved in a social struggle when we ask how best any of us are to live. —Judith Butler interviewed by Sara Ahmed (via lazz)

sleepygogh:

9.10.16
oh boy am I pale, but I’ve given up on sunlight

colorgrl:

I am horribly limited - Sylvia Plath

I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. Now I know how people can live without books, without college. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I’d call myself a fool to ask for more. —Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals (via fragmentarie)