Lights the Sky



Solitary figures wander through vast, dreamlike worlds in artist Kasia Derwinska's striking images. Derwinska combines photography and digital manipulation to create surreal works of art that seem to act as metaphors for life, expressing themes like loneliness, isolation, separation, reflection, and joy as each figure contemplates their paths in life.

— 2 days ago with 727 notes


“My mother boils seawater. It sits all afternoon simmering on the stovetop, almost two gallons in a big soup pot. The windows steam up and the house smells like a storm. In the evening, a crust of salt is all that’s left at the bottom of the pot. My mother scrapes it out with a spoon. We each lick a fingertip and dip them in the salt and it’s softer than you’d think, less like sand and more like snow. We lay our fingertips on our tongues, right in the middle. It tastes like salt but like something else, too—wide, and dark. It tastes like drowning, or like falling asleep on the shore and only waking up when the tide has come up to your feet and you wonder if you’d gone on sleeping, would you have sunk?”

The Alchemy: Salt from Water

(via didyoueatallthisacid)

— 2 days ago with 37953 notes
"Your soul has fallen to bits and pieces. Good. Rearrange them to suit yourself."
Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf (via aestheticintrovert)

(Source: wordsnquotes, via carpe-yesterdiem)

— 2 days ago with 2654 notes
"A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving."
Thích Nhất Hạnh

(via enigmatic-being)

(Source: purplebuddhaproject, via nathanielstuart)

— 4 days ago with 5145 notes


Bill Withers - Ain’t No Sunshine

(via didyoueatallthisacid)

— 1 week ago with 3984 notes

The man behind the bodega counter asked me if I can deep-throat. Said, “You look like the kind of girl who can swallow; who can make a man forget that his girl can’t do certain things.”
In an attempt to respond I thought, “Irrational of me to be both woman and hungry, to confuse myself with the kind of person who has rights.” To be woman and house a body is to break all the floors. Is to know most men think your mouth a door. Think your mouth always open. Think you’re steadfast-ready. Think you back in their car. Their car loud as sirens. Their sirens break all the windows. You, woman, house a body that stay breaking. Creaking men think the fragments aren’t opening, walk through you, like your walls are an invitation; run their panels through all your floors. You don’t recall thinking yourself “welcome mat,” except for the fact that you came out the womb both woman and body. And men, like most people, want to crawl back into that body, and you, woman, house a body that both absorbs and expels. So, naturally, you’re the first they’re coming for. Dare speak, “Bitch, feminist, men basher.” Even though you ain’t bashing all men, just the men who think and act this kind of way. Still, you, “Man hater, you be mad lonely, ain’t no man going to love you,” echoed loudly as if that’s the only accomplishment us women strive for. Like that’s the only role us women play.

Patriarchy is so evident, it seeps through every flaw you’ve got until everyone is calling you out your name. You, no longer Stacy. You, whore from downtown. Head game so good, got a man walking in the right direction. See how quickly you become a mouth again? A cavity? A temple and brothel, both cathedral and Jezebel? Cattle and disparage. You not just dressed up, high heels stopping pavement. You’re asking for it as if your body were an eager child who can’t use its words.

You, woman, can’t form words, but movement. Movement to man’s attention. Attention suggests you get everything you deserve. You, woman, get everything you deserve regardless if you wanted it because what do you know of desire except for what is told to you? What do you know of your body except for what is told to you? What do you know of what you’re needed except for what you’re needed for? What are you needed for other than a mouth and the right kind of softness? So, I stood there? My jaw a waving flag, legs the right kind of run-ready, and said, “If your girl can’t swallow, how does she eat?”

- Venessa Marco “Patriarchy”

— 1 week ago with 9 notes


Italian photographer Alessio Albi captures stunningly atmospheric portraits filled with subtly subdued tones and beautiful natural light.

— 1 week ago with 809 notes
"When you do not seek or need external approval, you are at your most powerful."
Caroline Myss - Sacred Contracts (via sensationalsegue)

(via nathanielstuart)

— 1 week ago with 177 notes


Feelings are for ugly people.

(via nathanielstuart)

— 1 week ago with 51 notes


{ a song of grass and trees and clouds }

(via anditslove)

— 1 week ago with 6697 notes








I lost it at the end.

Okay, I had to check out the Van Eyck thing. I was a bit in denial because, come on, every single person can’t look like President Putin!

There are no words to describe how wrong I was.

Reblogging this for my art history class this semester


The art historian in me had to reblog this.

(Source: cheekygeekymonkey, via this-is-howitgoes)

— 1 week ago with 341608 notes
"Who the fuck cares where you went to school or where you work? The question is: Is your everyday experience good, healthy, beautiful? Because I have to tell you, while it might be cool to work for a company like Google, Apple, or The New Yorker, if your job is stupid, stressful and your boss is an asshole, there is nothing good or prestigious about that. While it might seem right to go to a school like Berkeley, if classes are overcrowded and students are nervous, anxious, religious zealots from Orange County, are you sure you want to go there? What’s good about that? To believe in prestige is to privilege abstract, collective impression over palpable, daily experience. To which I say: fuck prestige. Do what serves your everyday vitality."
Daniel Coffeen (via makethemdream)

(Source: liberatingreality, via nathanielstuart)

— 1 week ago with 1752 notes