Lion
Then one day you get out where the sun shines
hmthemes
onezia:

Rice terraces, China

onezia:

Rice terraces, China


i took this in verona the morning after the arctic monkeys concert and everything was silent and still and i remember thinking that i would have given anything for the world to stay this way 

i took this in verona the morning after the arctic monkeys concert and everything was silent and still and i remember thinking that i would have given anything for the world to stay this way 

yobaretetobidete:

斉藤優里

yobaretetobidete:

斉藤優里

chickdeney:

spockdoesntconcur:

Cosmetics companies = billions and billions of dollars of profits for men from the pockets of women.

GOD DAMN IT

basicbook:

Tracey Emin - My Bed (1998)

The artist’s bed, presented in the state she claimed it had been while in the midst of a suicidial depression brought on by relationship difficulties. Empty booze bottles, cigarette butts, stained sheets, worn panties, “the bloody aftermath of a nervous breakdown”, My Bed was a scandalous installation in its day and though it wasn’t the winner of the Turner Prize, its notoriety has persisted. 

ductility:

A Protestor in Ferguson on Tuesday (x)

ductility:

A Protestor in Ferguson on Tuesday (x)

The Europeans are not yet willing to acknowledge that the world did not wait in darkness for them to bring the light, and that the history of Africa was already old when Europe was born.
John Henrik Clarke, “Education for a New Reality in the African World” (1994)

mommapolitico:

crooksandliars:

Politico: GOP Worried About Falling Short In Mid-Terms

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say I think the Democrats can pull off an upset this year and take back the House. The mood of the public “feels” like 2006 — and if you recall, pretty much every pundit and consultant (including the Democrats) wrote the Democrats off as dead that year. We took back control of everything: The House, the Senate and the majority of governor’s races.

Yes, we had the magic of Howard Dean and the 50-state strategy. But that wasn’t the whole story. We also increased turnout by 5.5% — and 5.1% of depressed Republican voters stayed home.

I get really pissed when armchair prognosticators “explain” to me that it doesn’t matter, the GOP has gerrymandered away any chance of victory. Horse hockey: Gerrymandering only works when Dems have their usual tepid turnout. If we turn out, we win.

And here’s the simplest way to do it: Call every Democrat you know the weekend before the election, and remind them how important it is to vote. Then call and remind them the night before. No big deal, just friends reminding friends to get their butts in the booth:

Tepid fundraising, underperforming candidates and a lousy party brand are threatening to deprive House Republicans of the sweeping 2014 gains that some top party officials have been predicting this year.

read more

Republicans are elected by Democrats who don’t vote! Get out the vote this November!

And yet, in a time where the mainstream seems to continually question the power and validity of art, and especially of poetry, its need, its purpose, in a generation obsessed with appearances, of status updates and smiling selfies bathed (corrected?) in the golden light of filters, in which it has become more and more difficult for us to say aloud, to one another: I am hurt. I am scared. What happens now?, the poem, like the fire escape, as feeble and thin as it is, has become my most concentrated architecture of resistance. A place where I can be as honest as I need to—because the fire has already begun in my home, swallowing my most valuable possessions—and even my loved ones. My uncle is gone. I will never know exactly why. But I still have my body and with it these words, hammered into a structure just wide enough to hold the weight of my living. I want to use it to talk about my obsessions and fears, my odd and idiosyncratic joys. I want to leave the party through the window and find my uncle standing on a piece of iron shaped into visible desperation, which must also be (how can it not?) the beginning of visible hope. I want to stay there until the building burns down. I want to love more than death can harm. And I want to tell you this often: That despite being so human and so terrified, here, standing on this unfinished staircase to nowhere and everywhere, surrounded by the cold and starless night—we can live. And we will.
centuria:

Sectional sofa painted to resemble Marc Chagall’s ”The Concert”, 1984

centuria:

Sectional sofa painted to resemble Marc Chagall’s ”The Concert”, 1984

jawnthebaptiste:

kingjaffejoffer:

Michael Brown’s dad before the burial. 
The emotion and all of the sweat…. shit is hard to look at, even if its only a picture

I didn’t want to reblog this because it’s hard to look at, but people SHOULD see it.
We SHOULD see a father mourning his teenage son.
We SHOULD see how a killing like Mike’s can take a toll on not only a community, but a family.
It’s as easy for young black men to become martyrs as it is for them to become victims. They can never just be humans. 
We can never just be.

jawnthebaptiste:

kingjaffejoffer:

Michael Brown’s dad before the burial. 

The emotion and all of the sweat…. shit is hard to look at, even if its only a picture

I didn’t want to reblog this because it’s hard to look at, but people SHOULD see it.

We SHOULD see a father mourning his teenage son.

We SHOULD see how a killing like Mike’s can take a toll on not only a community, but a family.

It’s as easy for young black men to become martyrs as it is for them to become victims. They can never just be humans. 

We can never just be.

leonardalbert:

Albert Hammond Jr. at FYF 2014.

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