Inspirations, random musings and other pseudo coming-of-age stories of a 20 year-old. I write, I ramble, I bitch quite a bit.
Looking for kindred spirits.

blackberryvision:

Brilliant. Skittles, 2014 by Josh Kline. Highline, MePa.

To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance.
To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.
- Arundhati Roy (via arabellesicardi)

lacingandboning:

6 Beautiful corsets by RetroFolie!

I don’t understand why more people don’t know of her work, it’s absolutely incredible! This Montreal corseterie bases her designs off of Victorian-cut styles and they have gorgeous curvature. She has quite a few ‘art-history’ corsets with prints from famous (mostly Renascence) paintings (The swing pictured above) and all of her fabrics are so cute and rather posh. Her corsets are made-to-measure and are actually pretty affordable, go take a look! Her work is perfect!

(please don’t take off the credits)     

huffpostbeauty:

Ann Yee’s Fall 2014 Makeup Is All About Midnight Blue Lips

SWOOOOOOOON. 

Look at the Hardy Boys! They started out as kid detectives just solving mysteries in Bayport and now they have an entire book series about them!”

paris2london:

(via The Racha | Park & Cube)

paris2london:

(via The Racha | Park & Cube)

fitnessbyjune:

Paprika Parsnip Baked Fries w/Preserved Lemon Cashew Cream Sauce

fitnessbyjune:

Paprika Parsnip Baked Fries w/Preserved Lemon Cashew Cream Sauce

Frail girl, naked or half, laid down by invisible hands. In the woods, in a bathtub, on a beach of pebbles. Sometimes across her own bed. Shy, demure glances away from the camera. A smile. An air of serenity. Sometimes a hint of sadness. A pale, broken doll. The same plot, repeated over and over. And I feel so gross for wanting to fit the storyline. I’ve been fed that this is the way I ought to be wanted. I never aimed to be the magazines. I always aimed to be this. Art. Literature. Indie films. A thousand little frames in which thick legs and dark skin couldn’t fit. A thousand frames from which my limb stuck out because my looks of defiance weren’t a come-hither, weren’t a fuck-me. They were a fuck-you. Fuck you for making me invisible, and still, starving to take less space. Fuck you for inviting me to aspire to exploitation. Fuck you for inciting me to be one of your little fantasies of frail helpless girls lost in the forest, only to be saved by your hands. My body is a weapon to be used against you. Do not think that I’m docile, that you’ve convinced me. I listen to you, and I watch you, and I read you still — but I’m still out to destroy you in ways you couldn’t imagine.


Alyson Romanok on Flickr.

Alyson Romanok on Flickr.


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