Nº. 1 of  2013

sharp-edged things

a former consultant in san francisco.  now a student in denmark.

(Source: heartwrench, via sadwaterss)

(Source: sandandglass, via honey-andtar)

sebastiandebeste:

*hears a single word from a foreign language that i know* Wow. haha not to toot my own horn or anything but did you guys know that you are in the presence of a sophisticated linguist

(via cleverdoubleentendre)

(Source: eoix, via ladymacmeth)

I understand, all right. The hopeless dream of being—not seeming, but being. At every waking moment, alert. The gulf between what you are with others and what you are alone. The vertigo and the constant hunger to be exposed, to be seen through, perhaps even wiped out. Every inflection and every gesture a lie, every smile a grimace. Suicide? No, too vulgar. But you can refuse to move, refuse to talk, so that you don’t have to lie. You can shut yourself in. Then you needn’t play any parts or make wrong gestures. Or so you thought. But reality is diabolical. Your hiding place isn’t watertight. Life trickles in from the outside, and you’re forced to react.

Persona (1966) dir. by Ingmar Bergman  

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via somnolentsphinx)

orphanwork:

Untitled, 1961 © Simpson Kalisher

orphanwork:

Untitled, 1961 © Simpson Kalisher

(via tiredteaspoons)

Nº. 1 of  2013