December 19, 2012

(Source: emschu, via uurrss)

December 19, 2012
mpdrolet:

Gerco de Ruijter

mpdrolet:

Gerco de Ruijter

December 19, 2012

(Source: white-aqua, via creatio-ex-materia)

December 19, 2012
workman:

nevver:
Up all night

workman:

nevver:

Up all night

December 19, 2012
workman:

Double Tent, 1923, by Paul Klee

workman:

Double Tent, 1923, by Paul Klee

(Source: gypsiesandliars)

December 14, 2012
workman:

nevver:
Your moment of Zen

workman:

nevver:

Your moment of Zen

December 13, 2012

Misty Morning, Lano Ling

(Source: dormio, via naturama)

December 13, 2012

(Source: picalla, via vaacuum)

December 11, 2012

(Source: vaacuum)

December 11, 2012
vintageaddictions:

Edited by vintageaddictions
Classy Parisian Black White
Please do not delete or change source. :)

vintageaddictions:

Edited by vintageaddictions

Classy Parisian Black White

Please do not delete or change source. :)

(via creatio-ex-materia)

December 11, 2012

(via creatio-ex-materia)

December 11, 2012
residence-on-earth-1962:

The holy canons of madrigal, the mandates of touch, smell, taste, sight, hearing, the passion for justice, sexual desire, the sea sounding—-willfully rejecting and accepting nothing: the deep penetration of things in the transports of love, a consummate poetry soiled by the pigeon’s claw, ice-marked and tooth marked, bitten delicately with our sweat-drops and usage, perhaps. Till the instrument so restlessly played yields us the comfort of its surfaces, and the woods show the knottiest suavity shaped by the pride of the tool. Blossom and water and wheat kernel share one precious consistency: the sumptuous appeal of the tactile.
Let no one forget them. Melancholy, old mawkishness impure and unflavored  fruits of a fabulous species lost to the memory, cast away in a frenzy’s abandonment—-moonlight, the swan in the gathering darkness, all hackneyed endearments: surely that is the poet’s concern, essential and absolute.
Pablo Neruda from Toward An Impure Poetry

residence-on-earth-1962:

The holy canons of madrigal, the mandates of touch, smell, taste, sight, hearing, the passion for justice, sexual desire, the sea sounding—-willfully rejecting and accepting nothing: the deep penetration of things in the transports of love, a consummate poetry soiled by the pigeon’s claw, ice-marked and tooth marked, bitten delicately with our sweat-drops and usage, perhaps. Till the instrument so restlessly played yields us the comfort of its surfaces, and the woods show the knottiest suavity shaped by the pride of the tool. Blossom and water and wheat kernel share one precious consistency: the sumptuous appeal of the tactile.

Let no one forget them. Melancholy, old mawkishness impure and unflavored  fruits of a fabulous species lost to the memory, cast away in a frenzy’s abandonment—-moonlight, the swan in the gathering darkness, all hackneyed endearments: surely that is the poet’s concern, essential and absolute.

Pablo Neruda from Toward An Impure Poetry

(via s33nosk)

December 11, 2012

(Source: ethereallune, via creatio-ex-materia)

December 11, 2012

Blue Mountains, New South Wales, Austrailia

Blue Mountains, New South Wales, Austrailia

(Source: vaacuum)

December 11, 2012
mpdrolet:

via sonia de spa

mpdrolet:

via sonia de spa