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the only way I want it.

ILOVEMAKONNEN ft. Drake - Club Goin' Up (Tuesday)

I kept as still as I could. Nothing happened. I did not expect anything to happen. I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want to be anything more. I was entirely happy. Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.
Willa Cather, My Ántonia (via obeswiftinsects)
obeswiftinsects:

"Aujourd’hui, Maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas."

obeswiftinsects:

"Aujourd’hui, Maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas."

obeswiftinsects:

O, be swift— 
we have always known you wanted us. (A. diadematus)

obeswiftinsects:

O, be swift—
we have always known you wanted us. (A. diadematus)

In a strange room you must empty yourself for sleep. And before you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied for sleep, you are not. And when you are filled with sleep, you never were. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know if I am or not. Jewel knows he is, because he does not know that he does not know whether he is or not. He cannot empty himself for sleep because he is not what he is and he is what he is not. Beyond the unlamped wall I can hear the rain shaping the wagon that is ours, the load that is no longer theirs that felled and sawed it nor yet theirs that bought it and which is not ours either, lie on our wagon though it does, since only the wind and the rain shape it only to Jewel and me, that are not asleep. And since sleep is is-not and rain and wind are was, it is not. Yet the wagon is, because when the wagon is was, Addie Bundren will not be. And Jewel is, so Addie Bundren must be. And then I must be, or I could not empty myself for sleep in a strange room. And so if I am not emptied yet, I am is.

How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.

William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying (via obeswiftinsects)

(Source: vividnoise, via decayedbones)

poetic-angel:

1950’s Science Fiction Art 

poetic-angel:

1950’s Science Fiction Art 

(Source: angelic-rasta, via scientificillustration)

gallowhill:

Bas Jan Ader

  1. Fall I, 1970
  2. Fall II, 1970
  3. Broken Fall (Organic), 1971
  4. Nightfall, 1971
  5. Broken Fall (Geometric), 1971

[You can also view the animated GIF for I’m too sad to tell you performance here]

(via ryandonato-deactivated20130922)