beneath-a-lonely-place:

I think what bothers me the most about meaningless sex – as in an one night stand or a simple hookup isn’t the action of it, because sometimes it’s just nice to feel wanted – it’s the aftermath of knowing that there can’t be more.

That you can’t trace your fingers to admire, to cherish, to appreciate – you find yourself knowing that you can’t hold them closer to not only feel wanted but to simply have someone’s warmth next to you. And perhaps that’s just me – I can’t just fuck – I can’t just feed into my desire to replace empty spaces for the sake of having someone there. What I want is to hold them after when everything is said and done and I can smile towards their direction and they’ll know just how beautiful they are to me –

Where I can memorize every mark on their skin and trace them with my lips – feeling every indent – and then to fall asleep without a care and to wake up with their scent hovering over my skin like a gentle kiss which lingers long after.

I just want that special somebody to hold for the night. 

(via beneath-a-lonely-place)

Anonymous said: Come travel the world with me

beneath-a-lonely-place:

Only if you reveal yourself to me - then we’ll go to an airport - close our eyes and randomly pick a destination and allow our spontaneous decision to take us through whatever it is that we do afterwards. We’ll take endless of photos on my polaroid camera and I’ll find myself staying up late, writing about or days and how it feels to have the company of someone to see and share and experience the world with.

We’ll come back as two different people - maybe we grew together throughout or grew apart but we’ll be older with something new to offer to the world and to others around us, all because we took a chance and a risk to see the world with our own two eyes and our own two feet.

bothkindsofmusic:

Elizabeth Cook - Jesus

Covering what she calls the “heroin gospel song” by Lou Reed and The Velvet Underground

(Source: elledrivers)

cinemove:

Before Sunrise (1995)

artchipel:

Margaret Bowland (b.1953)

"Beauty makes sense to me, has weight for me, only when it falls from grace. It starts to matter when it carries damage. Sorrow allows it to cast a shadow. It becomes three-dimensional. It enters our world."

Margaret Bowland’s spellbinding and psychologically charged work brings viewers face to face with contentious culture while affirming the resilience and triumph of the human spirit. A masterful observer of life’s unpredictable nature, her work conveys universal themes through unusually specific insights. Bowland’s work explores the subtle and nuanced edges between strength and vulnerability, certainty and doubt, faith and disbelief. Bowland’s probing and deeply personal images call into question our societal expectations of gender, race, and beauty.

© All images courtesy of the artist ; artist portrait by Andrew Theodorakis/New York Daily

[more Margaret Bowland | artist recommended by by blackonwhiteorwhiteonblack]

red-lipstick:

Taylor Marie McCormick aka Lalasiy - 1: Float On, 2012  2: 3.52, 2011  3: Starrs, 2012  4: Nightlights, 2012  5: Cosmic, 2012  6: White Night, 2012  7: Trance, 2012      Photography

(Source: taylor-mccormick)

prostheticknowledge:

Mrs Escher’s Nightmare

Demoscene production by Andromeda Software Development presents what appears to be a continuous drawing of moving 3D objects to great effect. Video embedded below, but it is preferable to experience the PC demo:

A summer demo by ASD made for Euskal Encounter 22 (2014).

Code: Konstantinos “Navis” Pataridis
Music: Sotiris “aMUSiC” Varotsis & Fotis “Leviathan” Panetsos
Hand Model and Photography: Giorgos “Ch3” Cherouvim
Graphics: Nikos “Amoivikos” Batalas

You can download the demo for PC (around 25MB) here

More at Pouet here

Life is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel.
written by Jean Racine (via observando)
“Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Hart Crane, Inge … oh, the debris! The wreckage!” —
written by Tennessee Williams (via theparisreview)
11 notes
bethanymaepoetry:

on the passing of July into August, 2014

bethanymaepoetry:

on the passing of July into August, 2014

i want a word for the almost-home.

that point where the highway’s monotony becomes familiar
that subway stop whose name will always wake you from day’s-end dozing
that first glimpse of the skyline
that you never loved until you left it behind.

what do you call the exit sign you see even in your dreams?
is there a name for the airport terminal you come back to,
comfortably exhausted?

i need a word for rounding your corner onto your street,
for seeing your city on the horizon,
for flying homewards down your highway.

give me a word for the boundary
between the world you went to see
and the small one you call your own.

i want a word for the moment you know
you’re almost home.


written by there and back again, n.m.h. (via anoraborealis)
98 notes
sorryexcuseforsorry:

garbage soul

sorryexcuseforsorry:

garbage soul

fuckyourmixtapes:

All the glory when you ran outside

With your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied

And you told me not to follow you

I think what bothers me the most about meaningless sex – as in an one night stand or a simple hookup isn’t the action of it, because sometimes it’s just nice to feel wanted – it’s the aftermath of knowing that there can’t be more.

That you can’t trace your fingers to admire, to cherish, to appreciate – you find yourself knowing that you can’t hold them closer to not only feel wanted but to simply have someone’s warmth next to you. And perhaps that’s just me – I can’t just fuck – I can’t just feed into my desire to replace empty spaces for the sake of having someone there. What I want is to hold them after when everything is said and done and I can smile towards their direction and they’ll know just how beautiful they are to me –

Where I can memorize every mark on their skin and trace them with my lips – feeling every indent – and then to fall asleep without a care and to wake up with their scent hovering over my skin like a gentle kiss which lingers long after.

I just want that special somebody to hold for the night.