Money can't buy my soul because it comes from a hard earned place.
human.artist.photographer.
fantasy everything. punk/folk.
adventures. daydreaming.
lone wolf syndrome.
Oh Comely by Neutral Milk Hotel
“Oh comely, I will be with you when you loose your breath chasing the only meaningful memory you thought you had left.”
(Source: nottinghamlance)
I’M SLEEPING ALONE
Well my hair wasn’t supposed to turn out black, but what can ya do
Why can’t you be decent to people?” she asked.
“Fear,” I said.
Charles Bukowski (via petexshankland)
I’ll say it loud and I’ll say it clear. I am not mentally ill, never was, never have been, never will be. I am a survivor of abuse and I believe that I have had a perfectly natural human reaction to terrible experiences. And to frame my responses as illness, I think, is offensive. And I think we spend far too long talking about what’s going on in people’s brains, and not enough time talking about what’s happened in people’s lives.
Jacqui Dillon, The Personal is Political (via madness-narrative)
(Source: plector)
The molding city is a photo installation from a swedish artist and theatre deisgner Johanna Mårtensson. It was built completley out of bread and then the artist just let it mold, and photographed the process.
(Source: wacky-thoughts)
Why is it so hard for me to make friends?
I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.
Anna Peters (via floralnymph)
(Source: winterkristall)