theme
something like a phenomena
i speak in smoke signals and you answer in code

Notting Hill, London


Vincent van Gogh - Starry Night over the Rhone (1888)

Vincent van GoghStarry Night over the Rhone (1888)





Glory and Gore
Lorde / Pure Heroine
PLAYED 9,593 TIMES.

LORDE | Glory and Gore

"Secretly you love this do you even wanna go free?"
Let me in the ring, I’ll show you what that big word means

steelromanticism:

Witches Going to Their Sabbath (1878), by Luis Ricardo Falero.  

steelromanticism:

Witches Going to Their Sabbath (1878), by Luis Ricardo Falero.  

"Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing."
- T. S. Eliot, from “East Coker” in The Four Quartets (via proustitute)
theowldepot:

gueneverev:
Galliano’s salute to René Gruau, made for Dior
2011, Paris

theowldepot:

gueneverev:

Galliano’s salute to René Gruau, made for Dior

2011, Paris

"That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coalbins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain."
- Ray BradburyThe October Country (via bookmania)


Herr God, Herr LuciferBewareBeware. 
Out of the ashI rise with my red hairAnd I eat men like air.

- sylvia plath, lady lazarus.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

- sylvia plath, lady lazarus.

monsieurfishie:

"She wants to be flowers," said Huw, “but you make her owls. Why do we destroy ourselves?"

monsieurfishie:

"She wants to be flowers," said Huw, “but you make her owls. Why do we destroy ourselves?"

Jesus, more hobbledehoys!

You can’t leave me alone with them, they’re all over the place like a nest of pigs!
Why can’t they all just go away?!

The Maenads | Ursula K. Le Guin

whiskeybot:

Somewhere I read
that when they finally staggered off the mountain
into some strange town, past drunk,
hoarse, half naked, blear-eyed,
blood dried under broken nails
and across young thighs,
but still jeering and joking, still trying
to dance, lurching and yelling, but falling
dead asleep by the market stalls,
sprawled helpless, flat out, then
middle-aged women,
respectable houswives,
would come and stand nightlong in the agora
silent
together
as ewes and cows in the night fields,
guarding, watching them
as their mothers
watched over them.
And no man
dared
that fierce decorum.