I am Food-Art-Music-Manga/Anime-Travel-Video Games

kuroenigma:

s0mmerspr0ssen:

For his recently published picture book Freckles (Splice Pictures Publishing), the Swiss photographer Reto Caduff has taken pictures of freckled women all over Europe. His pictures prove: freckles are beautiful. Don’t hide yourself in the shade! I think what I love about this the most is the vast diversity of people who are blessed with freckles. (x)

I have never ever understood why freckles are considered ugly.

Sweet Nothings

jayarrarr:

Writers enjoy capturing readers with literate and studied depictions of love; they labor over poetry and philosophy, classic novels and films, all in an attempt to paint the perfect picture of the perfect love — of how it becomes and how it is. All they ever draw are eager eyes…

gasoline-station:

Concrete Israel V , 2014

by Hans Otto Rathenow

bigrnac:

lets play “how rude can i be until u realize i dont like u”

(Source: ouijasquiji)

lovesexdevotion:

That was so beautiful

(Source: johto-jordan)

A great book should leave you with many experiences, and slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading.
William Styron (via observando)

eatsleepdraw:

Blog

(Source: blackandwhiteillusion)

And maybe what growing up really means is knowing that you don’t have to be just a character, going whichever way the story says. It’s knowing you could be the author instead.
Ava Dellaira, Love Letters to the Dead (via creatingaquietmind)

(Source: quoted-books)

liyahetman:

Very rare - black orchid or Cymbidium Kiwi Midnight.

ohdaesusie:

this world is so fucked up like one of my friends has carpeting in his bathroom instead of tile like how can someone hate themselves that much

wilderness-delinquent:

7bottles:

i want to live by the ocean but also in the forest but also in the mountains but also in a big city but also in the countryside u feel me

Have you heard of this marvellous city called Vancouver?

starllex:

my friend richie was really angry one time and he picked up a rock and threw it angrily at the ground but it actually didnt touch the ground it went straight into a gutter so he literally threw a rock at the ground and missed

You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.
John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via observando)

myfeelslikeicanteven:

what does the fox say?
the fox says “pay me 3200 bells for this forged painting, cousin”