mirabile visu

violentwavesofemotion:

“It was November. I was not alone.”

— Annie Finch, from Spells: New & Selected Poems; “Harvest Seam,”

zegalba:

hands sculpture by Louise Bourgeois (1993)

real-era:

I forget people don’t have the same heart

leejian:

a little girl in a refugee camp in one of Gaza’s schools talks about her dress.

- what a beautiful dress, come here let’s talk. what’s your name? - layan.

- where’s your dress from? - from the market.

- who bought it for you? - my mom.

- do you like it? - yes.

- why? do you know what it means? - yes.

- what is it? it’s the dress of palestine.

Keep reading

petaltexturedskies:

Sappho, from If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho; tr. by Anne Carson

mango549:

Stivenson Magloire

White Dove and Spirits

rawtings:

AFRICA BY LANGUAGE.

granstromjulius:

Andy Warhol

wickedfem:

the tumblrina is, by nature, unemployed in spirit — even when trapped in her place of employment, encumbered with obligations, she disregards them, firing off mediocre posts across all subject matters at great speed. thus posting is revealed not as a ritualistic-spiritual practice, as theorised by historians in previous eras, with less access to source material, but rather as the (strikingly contemporary!) 21st century laborer’s attempt to break free of the shakles of alienation, even if only for a moment. even a zero note post is fifteen minutes not spent on admin, as some of the primary sources remark.

illyadarling:

slayomicuntbell:

Gisele Bundchen by Mario Testino for Atelier Versace S/S 1999