How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a little while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?
source: complexity-contradiction
Boom.
Yup.
Ta-da
(Source: sandandglass)
source: sandandglass
(Source: bathemeinkisses, via presumably)
source: bathemeinkisses
source: shephards
(Source: oldlipgallagher, via lindsayclaire)
source: oldlipgallagher
source: ainsi-va-la-vie
(Source: bradcolbert, via presumably)
source: bradcolbert
Pluto e Proserpina (Pluto and Persephone)
By far, my favorite piece of almost all Italian art by my favorite Italian artist, Bernini. And to think, this was done with marble, 400 years ago, by a man of only 23 years.
(via the-greatelsewhere)
source: stabletransit
(Source: annie-banks, via the-greatelsewhere)
source: annie-banks
