tangible

dreams made flesh.
happiness.

happiness.

(Source: heyheyjanee)

Have been meaning to post this gorgeous song all week. Didn’t want to share a melancholy track tonight, but it’s been a staggeringly depressing day and I’m heading out to watch the last episodes of OITNB tonight with a couple friends, so this is comparatively lovely and next to the rest of that darkness.

Almost impossible to sleep; plagued by dreams, as if they were being scratched on me, on a stubborn material.

Franz Kafka

(Source: stxxz.us, via goghst)

Alvin Langdon Coburn (1882-1966), Woman in a Kimono with Sunflower, 1908

Alvin Langdon Coburn (1882-1966), Woman in a Kimono with Sunflower, 1908

(Source: bleuroses, via avanishedtime)

Of course that is not the whole story, but that is the way with stories; we make them what we will. It’s a way of explaining the universe while leaving the universe unexplained, it’s a way of keeping it all alive, not boxing it into time. Everyone who tells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that everybody sees it differently.

Jeanette WintersonOranges Are Not the Only Fruit

(via fuckyeahlesbianliterature)

Street market, Rome, 1952. By David Seymour.

Street market, Rome, 1952. By David Seymour.

(Source: k-a-t-i-e-, via theburnthatkeepseverything)

Woman in Los Alamos - William Eggleston 

Woman in Los Alamos - William Eggleston 

(Source: maudelynn.tumblr.com , via maudelynn)

I want to tell her the five most important things she needs to know before she leaves, but we haven’t spoken all morning.

I made the coffee without being asked. She took it the same way.

I say five, but there could be more.

I’m sure there are more, but five is a good, round number, I think. Enough but not too many, not too many things to carry with her. She wouldn’t listen beyond five, anyway.

A calm has settled over her. I say five, but really, there’s only one thing, only one thing to tell her. Don’t go.

Manuel Gonzalez, from Five Things 

So many beautiful pieces tonight about perception, misunderstanding and habit.

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

Valeria Schettino, Acqua/ Water 

(Source: showslow, via violentwavesofemotion)

The story behind lobsters
is that they weren’t thought of as cuisine
until the 19th century. Before that
they were considered peasant food,
and most often served in prisons.

The story behind diamonds
is that they were just rocks until 1938
when there was a marketing campaign
that forever linked them with love.

The story about you is that you thought
I was so much more than I was.

The story behind art
is that it’s never a masterpiece
until it’s already been sold.
Once it already belongs to someone else.

The story behind us
is that once you finally had me, you had
no idea what I was worth.

-The Story Behind Lobsters, Clementine von Radics

Love this piece and the plays on value. How impressionable our desires are. How inventive our objects of worship and love. It is good to be reminded often.

(Source: clementinevonradics, via s-trast)

Alice Gao

Alice Gao

(Source: browndresswithwhitedots)

I like the sea: we understand one another. It is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have; and so am I.

Greta Garbo, Picture Show Magazine Interview, 1927

(Source: mizenscen, via vasta)

A bit shaken by a lucid dream/hallucination I experienced last night.  It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve wrestled with a lucid dream, but never before have I actually felt a physical sensation of being touched or grabbed by the figure in the dream more than a visual scene.  Spent time this afternoon making some sense of it by reading about anomalous experiences and hoping the person seen is actually still alive and well. I have no idea. Logic chalks it up to fatigue. Imagination always has more frightfully daring theories.
(photo via CanusLilium on DeviantArt)

A bit shaken by a lucid dream/hallucination I experienced last night.  It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve wrestled with a lucid dream, but never before have I actually felt a physical sensation of being touched or grabbed by the figure in the dream more than a visual scene.  Spent time this afternoon making some sense of it by reading about anomalous experiences and hoping the person seen is actually still alive and well. I have no idea. Logic chalks it up to fatigue. Imagination always has more frightfully daring theories.


(photo via CanusLilium on DeviantArt)