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girl. 22. wildflowers. dc.

there is a part of me that truly does love animals more than humans.



Barbara Kruger

she’s moving out



since the thing perhaps is
to eat flowers and not to be afraid.

— e.e. cummings (via observando)


Black rabbit in the thicket
Discovery Park, Seattle, WA

Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. There is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.

— Henry Miller in Sexus (via human-voices)


Henri Matisse (1869-1954) 

La fenêtre ouverte 1911


Li Hui


“i am very impatient. i have difficulties to concentrate for a long time. i am often disproportionately emotional. i also have to say that i love sleeping and very much enjoy to sometimes not do anything. – which isn’t really a weakness, right?”

hanna putz photographed by thomas lohr for freunde von freunden


Banksy ~ “Mobile Lovers”, 2014


Blueberry Banana Almond Melon Bowl

The heart is a leaking pipe you don’t know
how to fix.
Water is seeping slow from the
ventricle but you lost the plumber’s number
so long ago.
Your blood doesn’t boil anymore,
doesn’t rise like the Red Sea. Instead, it’s been
replaced by dirty water that shudders through
your veins as if they are nothing more
than a metal drain.
Maybe you could have helped me
turn off the tap.
Now all I have to remember you
by is this

contramonte, “The Heart is a Faulty Faucet” (via contramonte)

behold, a miniature cow (at Richmond Virgina)