whatever major loser
Charlotte, "trying", Florida.

brochant:

The Penguin Café Orchestra : “Perpetuum Mobile”

(via qoax)

"The path I choose through the maze makes me what I am. I am not only a thing, but also a way of being—one of many ways—and knowing the paths I have followed and the ones left to take will help me understand what I am becoming." by Flowers for Algernon, Daniel Keyes (via seabois)

(via seabois)

sulkcutie:

the botanical garden is so pretty

(via seabois)

stop talking to me

66lanvin:

H.LANG Circa Printemps/Été 2005………No.1

thiscorrosion:

Chopin: Prelude Op. 28. No. 19 in E flat major: Vivace

(via girlnah)

so-narly:

holy bless

fourchu:

New York : Autumn

lapitiedangereuse:

* Vladimir Nabokov, teaching his students how to read Kafka, pointed out to them that the insect into which Gregor Samsa is transformed is in fact a winged beetle, an insect that carries its wings under its armoured back, and that if Gregor had only discovered them, he would have been able to escape. And then Nabokov added: “Many a Dick and a Jane grow up like Gregor, unaware that they too have wings and can fly.”

Cherry Blossom @ Kyoto (by SILENCE Vincent)
milkingmary:

some1 buy this 4 me

Make Up at Christian Dior Spring 2015 | PFW. ( Yumi Lambert and Diana Moldovan).

(Source: runwayandbeauty, via qoax)

schoolboy q rap away the pain

"He looked around, as if he were seeing the world for the first time. The world was beautiful, the world was particolored, strange and quizzical. Here was blue, here was yellow, here green, the sky flowed and the river, the forest froze with the mountains, everything beautiful, everything full of mystery and magic, and in its midst he, Siddhartha, the awakening one, on the way to himself. All this, all this yellow and blue, river and forest for the first time entered through his eyes, no longer Mara’s magic, no longer the veil of Maya, no longer the pointless and random multiplicity of the world of appearance, contemptible to the deep-thinking Brahmin, who scorns multiplicity, who seeks unity. Blue was blue, river was river; and if the one and the divine also lay concealed in the blue and in the river and in Siddhartha, it was just the nature and meaning of the divine to be yellow here, blue here, there sky, there forest and here Siddhartha. Meaning and essence were not somewhere behind things, they were inside things, in everything." by Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha