wings wouldn't help you
theme
ashleypamelamiller:

one of my favorite, if not my absolute favorite, Araki photo

ashleypamelamiller:

one of my favorite, if not my absolute favorite, Araki photo

yhji:

Odda Magazine #1 “Rules Outside Feelings”  //  Bradley Soileau by Aline & Jacqueline Tappia

Finn Beales

(Canada of my dreams..

panicking bc idk how i’m gonna afford anything next year when i’m not working lmfao

9jae:

onico 桃山台の美容室 

〒560-0085 豊中市上新田3-2-5 第2千里ハイツ101

hafsaatique:

It always starts the same, with a clatter of a handful of sek on the grimy tiles of a laundromat, spelling out your mother’s name on the counter. You wait for your underwear to dry with an open mouth, counting the dead flies on the ceiling. Ett, två, tre. Skim loneliness of the top of cold coffee, filled with none-fat milk and not enough sugar. You pinch the skin between your nails and feel it cling. Seven in the morning, washing the dishes and watching a foreign sunrise through kitchen blinds, wanting to remind your new parents that you were still there, scraping plates with a irrational sense of longing and clutching piles of blunt kitchen knives to your chest. You rearrange plastic flowers on the kitchen table and walk away with fingers smelling of dust. You wear clothes that don’t fit because nothing in these places belongs to you, because even your memories are used and your dreams the property of some trembling, transitory state, making nightmares out of bus stations and journeys with no end. It starts with the same dream of you sitting on an abandoned bench, watching trains run over your toes and trying to drink from the same empty coffee cup over and over until your wrists start to creak. You hear your mother’s voice calling over a collision, a train wreck across the tracks of your swollen ankles. To you, her voice is catastrophe.

pikeys:

John Knuth - Faded Siren (2013)

faded siren exposes billowing clouds of orange smoke from emergency flares photographed with flash that cause fractal patterns in the black night sky.

You’re not a teenage girl but you feel the heat rising off these boys. Their eyes when you enter the classroom: lowered flame; the body curves. And when you lean across a desk to whisper good, you smell their necks. That animal distancing itself—but not too far; still innocent. The sharp cologne they wear says men to you, says: almost men. You think they have doused themselves for your sake; you straighten, swoon at their intent. At any moment they could strike the match of touch, they are that close. Boys, you tell yourself, they’re only boys. And toss your head. You’re thinking of wild horses, how the world will murder them.
– Cecilia Woloch, Los Niños (via notebookings)

any mix recs?


Alex enjoying a cigarette before performing at MSG 08.02.13

Alex enjoying a cigarette before performing at MSG 08.02.13

I’m battling monsters, I’m pulling you out of the burning buildings and you say ‘I’ll give you anything’ but you never come through.
– Richard Siken (via miscellaneous-quotes)

something sweet: a nightdrive to synthpop

"Cars can have a hypnotic effect. You can get in a car and get out and not really remember the trip. When you drive, you can kind of put your identity aside in the passenger’s seat, because you’re not being watched, and you can just be the watcher." —Ryan Gosling, on Drive

listen / download

fleurdelunaa:

bath series