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Posted on 27th Ago at 7:08 PM, with 35 note

linforme:

If I do not speak with you it is because I have nothing to say or I have too much to say but instead I direct my language of silence towards you, hoping you will understand. My greatest form of purity is silence, and distance, and I am sharing it with you.

Posted on 27th Ago at 2:56 PM, with 13 note
Posted on 26th Ago at 11:13 PM, with 556.273 note

unclemother:

*walks into school* actually, no thanks *walks out*

Posted on 26th Ago at 11:11 PM, with 716.255 note
marlboro-jack-and-razorblades:

ocean-ism:

deathtraders:

anti-v-ist:

oddsarentinmyfavor:

Interesting fact. The photographer of this photo was a high school student. He committed suicide after exams.

Reblogging in memory of the photographer.

dem feels

With the context of this photographer, this picture just means that much more. SO so powerful.

damn…
Mostra in alta risoluzione

marlboro-jack-and-razorblades:

ocean-ism:

deathtraders:

anti-v-ist:

oddsarentinmyfavor:

Interesting fact. The photographer of this photo was a high school student. He committed suicide after exams.

Reblogging in memory of the photographer.

dem feels

With the context of this photographer, this picture just means that much more. SO so powerful.

damn…

Posted on 26th Ago at 11:09 PM, with 12.091 note

…okay but everyone is nothing compared to andy biersack

Posted on 26th Ago at 11:05 PM, with 80.797 note

pinmeupagainstthesky:

These, for me, are the two most depressing paintings in western history. They were painted by post-impressionist Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec, a man who, due to inbreeding, was born with a genetic disorder that prevented his legs from growing after they were broken. After being so thoroughly mocked for is appearance, he became an alcoholic, which is what eventually caused his institutionalization and death. His only known romantic relations were with prostitutes.

And then he paints something like this which is so beautiful and tender and sentimental. It seems like the couple in bed really loves each other—cares about each other. Wakes up happy to look at each other. And I see that love and passion and I wonder how lonely he must have been. I wonder how he could paint something like this without it breaking his heart. 

Maybe they say artists should create what they know, not because its unbelievable when they extend themselves beyond their experiences, but because when they pull it off with such elegance, it’s so damn unbearable to look at. I hate thinking of Lautrec, wondering about the lovers he created and knowing it was beyond his experience. Creating something that he knows is beautiful and knows he’ll never really understand. 

Posted on 26th Ago at 11:04 PM, with 116.665 note

ocevns:

Me: Hmm, it’s 11:30, I’ll just check tumblr before bed
Me: Why is it 3am now

Start
00:00 AM
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