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ex-uviate:

Scandinavian tales and creatures

Skogsrån (watchers of the forest) are mysterious women who guard the forest and all its creatures. Seen from the front they are unearthly beautiful, but their backs are hollow like old and rotten trees, and they often have the tail of an animal. To protect the forest, they seduce and sleep with woodcutters and then steal their souls, leaving them empty husks of their former selves.
Apr 15, 2014 / 14,593 notes

ex-uviate:

Scandinavian tales and creatures

Skogsrån (watchers of the forest) are mysterious women who guard the forest and all its creatures. Seen from the front they are unearthly beautiful, but their backs are hollow like old and rotten trees, and they often have the tail of an animal. To protect the forest, they seduce and sleep with woodcutters and then steal their souls, leaving them empty husks of their former selves.

(via hippiedreamin)

Apr 15, 2014 / 2,644 notes
Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.”

Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)

oh my goodness. I have no words.

(via taytippett)

(via p--sychedelia)

Apr 15, 2014 / 194,597 notes
Apr 15, 2014 / 71,631 notes

(via ovvlz)


Eye of The Cosmos
Apr 15, 2014 / 11,096 notes

Eye of The Cosmos

(via chromatic-moon)

Apr 15, 2014 / 12,958 notes

(via jah-feel)

Apr 15, 2014 / 275,329 notes

(via wild-lion)

Apr 15, 2014 / 491 notes

from89:

Suspended by Chloe Early

You Can Also Find Me -:

Skumar’s :- Twitter | Facebook | We Heart It | Pinterest | Subscribe

Other Blog :- India Incredible | Facebook

(via unicorn-meat-is-too-mainstream)

Apr 15, 2014 / 4,142 notes

travelingcolors:

Magic Carpets, Casablanca’s Sacre Coeur Church | Morocco (by Miguel Chevalier)

‘Magic Carpets 2014′ by French artist Miguel Chevalier is an interactive light display spread out across the floor of the former Sacré Coeur church in Casablanca, Morocco. Covering it with a huge layer of light, the work references the world of biology, microorganisms, and cellular automata – as cells have the ability to multiply in abundance, divide and merge at different paces. pieces come together, fall apart and transform in shape at rapid speeds. the displayed organic universe mingles with a digital construction of overlapping pixels.

(via unicorn-meat-is-too-mainstream)

Apr 15, 2014 / 5,417 notes

(via gmashrooms)

helainetieu:


Real-life Grave of the Fireflies: (Photo) Stoic Japanese orphan, standing at attention having brought his dead younger brother to a cremation pyre, Nagasaki, by Joe O’Donnell 1945

This photograph was taken by an American photojournalist, Joe O’Donnell, in Nagasaki in 1945.
He recently spoke to a Japanese interviewer about this picture:

“I saw a boy about ten years old walking by. He was carrying a baby on his back. In those days in Japan, we often saw children playing with their little brothers or sisters on their backs, but this boy was clearly different. I could see that he had come to this place for a serious reason. He was wearing no shoes. His face was hard. The little head was tipped back as if the baby were fast asleep.
“The boy stood there for five or ten minutes. The men in white masks walked over to him and quietly began to take off the rope that was holding the baby. That is when I saw that the baby was already dead. The men held the body by the hands and feet and placed it on the fire.
“The boy stood there straight without moving, watching the flames. He was biting his lower lip so hard that it shone with blood. The flame burned low like the sun going down. The boy turned around and walked silently away.



Cry every time
Apr 15, 2014 / 68,220 notes

helainetieu:

Real-life Grave of the Fireflies: (Photo) Stoic Japanese orphan, standing at attention having brought his dead younger brother to a cremation pyre, Nagasaki, by Joe O’Donnell 1945

This photograph was taken by an American photojournalist, Joe O’Donnell, in Nagasaki in 1945.

He recently spoke to a Japanese interviewer about this picture:

“I saw a boy about ten years old walking by. He was carrying a baby on his back. In those days in Japan, we often saw children playing with their little brothers or sisters on their backs, but this boy was clearly different. I could see that he had come to this place for a serious reason. He was wearing no shoes. His face was hard. The little head was tipped back as if the baby were fast asleep.

“The boy stood there for five or ten minutes. The men in white masks walked over to him and quietly began to take off the rope that was holding the baby. That is when I saw that the baby was already dead. The men held the body by the hands and feet and placed it on the fire.

“The boy stood there straight without moving, watching the flames. He was biting his lower lip so hard that it shone with blood. The flame burned low like the sun going down. The boy turned around and walked silently away.

Cry every time

(via gmashrooms)

Apr 15, 2014 / 200 notes

bugbae:

4/15/2014 (12 a.m.) _ (2 a.m.)

(via customlovecafe)

goddesswithinyou:

“If you live your love life only through the body, you live a very poor love life, because you live very superficially. Sex, just of the body, is not even sex — it becomes sexuality. It becomes pornographic, it becomes a little obscene, it becomes a little brutal, ugly, because it has no depth in it. Then it is just a physical release of the energy. Maybe it helps you to become a little less tense, but just to become a little more relaxed you are losing tremendous energy, tremendously valuable energy.”
~Osho
Apr 15, 2014 / 79 notes

goddesswithinyou:

“If you live your love life only through the body, you live a very poor love life, because you live very superficially. Sex, just of the body, is not even sex — it becomes sexuality. It becomes pornographic, it becomes a little obscene, it becomes a little brutal, ugly, because it has no depth in it. Then it is just a physical release of the energy. Maybe it helps you to become a little less tense, but just to become a little more relaxed you are losing tremendous energy, tremendously valuable energy.”

~Osho

(via pachipachiworld)

Apr 15, 2014 / 67,909 notes

sailorp00n:

earthmoth:

youngparis:

Cocoon and Evolved Metallic Mechanitis Butterfly Chrysalis from Costa Rica 

I wanna be reincarnated into this butterfly after I pass. Like holy fuck.

(via vibratingsounds)

Apr 15, 2014 / 3,087 notes