Janis Joplin
08.27.14 /10:00/ 124


This photo holds some of my favourite memories

08.27.14 /10:00/ 657

A child flies a kite in Cartagena, Colombia.
08.26.14 /23:22/ 34


Bud Powell
04 - Bud On Bach

Laundry Fluttering in the Wind Franz Marc - 1906
08.25.14 /21:10/ 164
08.25.14 /21:10/ 13210

Philip Larkin, from ”High Windows

Favourite final sentences

(via the-final-sentence)

~   Charles Bukowski, A plausible finish (The People Look Like Flowers At Last)
~   Anne Carson, Plainwater (via theperfumemaker)

O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant,
The captains, merchant bankers, eminent men of letters,
The generous patrons of art, the statesmen and the rulers,
Distinguished civil servants, chairmen of many committees,
Industrial lords and petty contractors, all go into the dark,
And dark the Sun and Moon, and the Almanach de Gotha
And the Stock Exchange Gazette, the Directory of Directors,
And cold the sense and lost the motive of action.
And we all go with them, into the silent funeral,
Nobody’s funeral, for there is no one to bury.
I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away—
Or as, when an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations
And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence
And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen
Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about;
Or when, under ether, the mind is conscious but conscious of nothing—
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

~   T. S. Eliot — excerpt from East Coker (via ryandonato)
Henri Rousseau, La Bohémienne endormie, 1897
08.24.14 /21:46/ 2
~   Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano (via feellng)
~   Joyce Carol Oates, “Smother” (via a-quiet-green-agreement)
Canvas  by  andbamnan