Photo 7 Dec Light As A Feather by O S Akingbade.

Light As A Feather by O S Akingbade.

Photo 21 Nov 336 notes fiore-rosso:

Takuro Yamamoto Architects.
White Cave House.


Takuro Yamamoto Architects.

White Cave House.

via ◕‿◕.
Video 22 Jun 9 notes
via Reckon.
Photo 21 Jun 42 notes avett-druthers:

(by Heiner Luepke)
Text 21 Jun This Moon

From the corner of my room
I watch as a rhombus of light
Slides across the floor
Hand in hand
With celestial beings on the move

Knowing somewhere in the Mediterranean
A face will float outside
To bathe in the deep purple

Sing a song and dance for two
Sing a song
And dance all through the light
If this moon shines on you.

Text 15 Jun Platform 11

It was right there on Platform 11
That the world flashed before my eyes

A stream of carriages stretched out
In a blur of hopes and fears
Each whispering to me
Its name
Its secret

But it was all moist breath
On a clock face

The wet nature of things
At once vivid in air
Held colour up to light
Only to fall again
Through gaps in the concrete
And into a daze of corridors
Coursing doors to corridors galore

Beyond a lit window
A silhouette paced back and forth
Every inch the image
Of a familiar shadow

But before I could call out ‘O—’
The train was flung open
And sinking between two briefcases
I slowly eased into deep oblivion.

Photo 8 Jun 109 notes avett-druthers:

Gdy Cię spotykam (by *Nishe)


Gdy Cię spotykam (by *Nishe)

Text 8 Jun Those Were The Days

Mother spoke of days gone by
Before the river turned black from oil
And suits turned backs to looks
That would kill if only they could

Long before bombs on wheels
Made headlines on screens nightly
And fat thumbs flicked on
For something lighter

O those were the days, she’d say
Before a mob of clocks screamed
Tick-tock into a deafened ear
Severed by the distance of Power

Good ol’ days, themselves now distant
Echo louder, starker
Farther and farther
Into tomorrow’s, dimmer, darker.

Text 2 Jun Good Intentions/Bad Impressions

'Aren't we all mirrors held up
To each others’ preconceptions and prejudices ?
Wouldn’t you rather trade in time
For seven years of bad luck:
Four for every bad impression given
And three for every gotten ?’

A silent slip away later left warm indentations
Where the lady in black used to be,
And as her leather chair slowly filled out,
A cold glass rim met my wry smile.

Text 2 Jun The Sea

Speedos race on towards the shore and into the sea
With verve pulsating underneath them.
It beats for hydration,
For the abandon of the crashing waves.
It’s yearned for the weekend libation
And has welcomed this Saturday.

Hop, skip, jump, SPLASH !
A choir of water reaches out to thank Heaven,
Then leaps back down to savour flesh.
Can you taste the salt ?
Does it sting your eyes ?

Linger for the abandon of the crashing waves
The horizon’s just a couple more miles away
Over which, they say, old stories find new ears
And bygones, new eras.

Once life has had its feel of the sea
It swells and splits at its seams
And the Great Blue, once filled with life,
Will, with a mighty shrug,
Spit it back out to be seen …

…With sea weed, headless chickens and empty bottles;
Pleas and sacrifices and half-delivered messages.
Is anyone really out there?
And can they hear your screams ?

Speedos lay on the shore, out of the sea.
They fit rather differently now:
Tighter, stiller, at ease.
Abandoned by the crashing waves, 
They yearned for the weekend liberation
And welcomed this Saturday.

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