archiemcphee:

When French illustrator Thomas Lamadieu looks up at the patches of blue sky between city buildings, he imagines fanciful characters existing in the geometric gaps formed by the neighboring buildings. Lamadieu shoots photos of those patches of sky and illustrates them for an ongoing series entitled Sky Art. Thus far he has drawn pictures on the skies over streets and enclosed courtyards in France, Germany, Belgium and Canada.

Head over to Thomas Lamadieu’s website to view more images from his whimsical Sky Art series.

[via Colossal]

tyleroakley:

sure it’s bad but like we don’t know this squirrel’s LIFE

tyleroakley:

sure it’s bad but like we don’t know this squirrel’s LIFE

To all the Tumblr users who tend to use tags very liberally:

thejadedkiwano:

Let’s play a game.

Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up.

you, also, what, when, why, how, look, because, never

Blood Bank - Bon Iver

nakedandreckless:

then the snow started falling
we were stuck out in your car
you were rubbing both my hands
chewing on a candy bar

you said, ‘ain’t it just like the present
to be showing up like this?’
as the moon waned to crescent
we started to kiss

music  
"if you consider a woman
less pure after you’ve touched her
maybe you should take a look at your hands"
(via solacity)

awesomephilia:

Purr = happy cat noise

Gato = Spanish for cat

Purgatory = infinite realm of happy Spanish cats

Pompeii (Gender Pitched) - Bastille

shiksa-feminista:

riningear:

Pompeii 
(pitched to different “gender”)

Sorry for low-tier quality, I just really wanted to hear what this would sound like. 

HOLY FUCK

"My knees are bleeding again, and I don’t remember hitting the floor this time. You had a voice like red wine and I wanted you to stain every inch of my skin until my bones were too drunk to break. It turns out bones don’t work like that. They break anyway. I’m learning how the echoes of silence can pound against your head so loudly, you’ll mistake them for voices. And I am carving each one into walls that aren’t mine and slamming the doors to cabs and sobbing over coffee that tastes too bitter. Lately, every part of New York has been looking at me with sad eyes, as if to say ‘Baby, did you see the way the buildings fell here? Did you see the way they were born again? Don’t you dare cry over a boy who kissed you so hard you fell and scraped your knees. You are not an abandoned city. You are a home waiting to be rebuilt.’ This poem is for all the time I spent hating you. This poem is for all the ways I didn’t kiss you and all the ways I did. This poem is for all the love letters that I never gave you. This poem is for the parts of me I let bleed out. Here. I am giving it to you like a peace offering for the days I blamed you for the war in my head. And I know my hands might be shaking, but they aren’t yours to worry about anymore. I will learn the art of getting better. But I need you take this from me first"
Y.Z  (via sadlittlepotato)
375 
via  src  RBG
When You Were Young [Live] - The Killers

mrgolightly:

The Killers - When You Were Young [Live]


Nicole Krauss, The History of Love
Nicole Krauss, The History of Love