1. (Source: owl-apologies, via gaspundkiss)

  4. (Source: weheartit.com, via discovers)

  5. merzbow-derek:

    Female IRA soldiers 

    Ireland 1970’s 

    (Source: datsueba, via cadernetadecromos)

  6. dhrupad:

    Poomaram, A Flowering Tree (2007)

    (via kawahineaihonua)

  8. (Source: deidrehalls)

  10. (Source: melisica, via discovers)

  11. glamour:

    Giles Resort 2015*Dressed


  12. The Session - Jeanann Verlee

    Say alone. Forty times. Pair it with
    the desert. Say it. Alone. Alone. Alone.
    Say the words plain, she says. Say it plain.
    Say it outright. Alone. Don’t get poetic.
    Say I. Say me. Say I am alone. Say your age,
    she says. Thirty-six, I say. Say it, she says.
    I am Thirty-six. Own it. I am alone. I am
    . She says tell me about the children.
    Don’t use metaphor. I say blue eyes. It’s only
    a guess
    . We have – not we, she corrects – I
    have blue eyes. It’s only a guess
    . Tell me
    about the children. There are hundreds, I say.
    Punch myself in the stomach. Hundreds.
    She says no, tell me about your children.
    Tell you about the dead? No, she says,
    no one died. Say it clear, she says. Stop
    the poetry. I say, the children in our – no,
    my – future are hard marbles sunk to the
    bottom of a fish tank
    . No! There is no fish
    tank. There are no marbles. She is growing
    irritable. I say there are no children. There.
    I stop talking. She asks more questions.
    I am mute. I am thinking of my sheets.
    Thinking of my molding bathtub and how
    much blood could fill it. I think of a poem
    written by a friend about a tubful of teeth.
    I think about teeth falling out of my face.
    About my face opened by a bullet’s exit.
    She asks what I am thinking about, I say
    peanut butter. What about peanut butter.
    I say I’m lying. She says why. I say, there
    are no children. Never
    . I punch myself
    in the stomach. She says stop or I’ll restrain
    you. I dig my nails into the armrest. Don’t
    damage the furniture, she says. I say peanut
    . She says the session is over.
    There is no she. It’s just a subway car and a
    Tuesday morning where the fluorescent lights
    are flickering so loud, it almost drowns
    out the voices telling me that I will die
    today. No one ever believes this story.

  13. versacesdrugs:

    Lana Del Rey blog

    (via mademoisellegainsbourg)

  14. Eylül Aslan
    Eylül Aslan
  15. osmaharvilahti:

    shot Satu Maaranen SS2015 collection

    more info & photos: http://satumaaranen.com

    (via unfuckthereallife)