if you read you'll judge


likeafieldmouse:

Jean-Michel Basquiat - Formless (1983)
snowce:

George Porcari, Kids on subway, 1982

snowce:

George Porcari, Kids on subway, 1982

(Source: k-a-t-i-e-)

1000drawings:

by Natalya Lobanova

The New World Shopping Mall has been abandoned since 1999. It shut its doors after being condemned by local regulators. A few years later a massive fire destroyed the structure’s roof. Not long after that monsoon rains flooded the lower floors.
As a way to combat the spread of mosquitoes and other insects breeding in the stagnant water, locals introduced koi and catfish to the former mall. Not only did the fish take care of the pest problem, they’ve thrived. It is now one of the world’s largest urban ponds.
The New World Shopping Mall has been abandoned since 1999. It shut its doors after being condemned by local regulators. A few years later a massive fire destroyed the structure’s roof. Not long after that monsoon rains flooded the lower floors.

As a way to combat the spread of mosquitoes and other insects breeding in the stagnant water, locals introduced koi and catfish to the former mall. Not only did the fish take care of the pest problem, they’ve thrived. It is now one of the world’s largest urban ponds.

perkamentus:

Ceilings and floors in Vatican City.

(Source: )

mulders:

all the white men you love will disappoint you

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

—Pablo Neruda (via arosary)

euo:

Ni Putes Ni Soumises (Neither Whores Nor Submissives)- Fight Violence Against Women