< Alienation Street
Alienation Street
fus-chia:

alapoet:

the lunar eclipse condensed to 3 seconds, for those of you who had clouds or are in a hurry

Or live in Europe
Make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservation, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun. If you want to get more out of life, you must lose your inclination for monotonous security and adopt a helter-skelter style of life that will at first appear to you to be crazy. But once you become accustomed to such a life you will see its full meaning and its incredible beauty.
- Jon Krakauer (via observando)

Pin by Beth Kirby | {local milk} on w e a r | Pinterest on We Heart It.

Insomnia, aah, my oldest friend! I’ll look on the bright side and say that at least, my creativity is skyrocking. My eyes are on fire and hands are sore from all the writing. And no, I’m not working on my freaking term paper about which ways phenomenology helped grasp a new understanding of existence and helped describe precisely what living is. Although I should really glue my butt to my chair and finish that one. But I can’t, I have this vomit of words that I have to lay on paper, I have to get it all out.
I love the peace though, everything is quite, steady. If I wasn’t scared of getting abducted and if it wasn’t this cold ( - 6°C man… WTF ), I’ll put my coat on and go for a walk. Gosh I wish I could, I’m tempted. If I was still living in the city I would, but nope, I’m in suburbia where getting a decent cup of coffee equals a 40 mins bus ride. But living here has its sweetness. It’s far, far from frat and home parties, thus far from drunken university students shouting at 3 am, no cops sirens every 10 mins: BLISS. I always look forward to my hot shower and quite eve after a hectic day, thank you suburbia, I love you.

They say that it’s on late nights that confessions bloom, it feels right to reveal what is untold and all that jazz. At least, that’s what the wise say. You know the ones who make all these rules about how we should spend our lives and what it should be, that we should all follow that life recipe: grow up, go to school, get a degree, tie the not, have a job, pop kids out, have a pet before that one just to make sure you can take care of a living creature, grow old, and you know…*quweak* eternal sleep if you know what I mean…

Geez! I don’t know what I’m saying anymore! I think I’ve embarrassed my self enough for tonight. sleep tight you lucky bastards!

So yeah, cheers to another sleepless night.


whitedem0n:

under water with you by laura makabresku on Flickr.
An empty space is marked off with plain wood and plain walls, so that the light drawn into it forms dim shadows within emptiness. There is nothing more. And yet, when we gaze into the darkness that gathers behind the crossbeam, around the flower vase, beneath the shelves, though we know perfectly well it is mere shadow, we are overcome with the feeling that in this small corner of the atmosphere there reigns complete and utter silence; that here in the darkness immutable tranquility holds sway. The "mysterious Orient" of which Westerners speak probably refers to the uncanny silence of these dark places. And even we as children would feel an inexpressible chill as we peered into the depths of an alcove to which the sunlight had never penetrated. Where lies the key to this mystery? Ultimately it is in the magic of shadows. Were the shadows to be banished from its corners, the alcove would in that instant revert to mere void.
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— Jun’ichirõ Tanizaki, In Praise of Shadows (via fuckyeahexistentialism)

noizzex:

by Craig Schulstad 
large.png (500×375) sur We Heart It.
Is the true self this which stands on the pavement in January, or that which bends over the balcony in June? Am I here, or am I there? Or is the true self neither this nor that, neither here nor there, but something so varied and wandering that it is only when we give the rein to its wishes and let it take its way unimpeded that we are indeed ourselves?
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"Street Haunting: A London Adventure," by Virginia Woolf (page three)

via Anne Fernald

(via readandbreathe)

Indie sur We Heart It.