A Passionate, Fragmentary Girl

"I grew used to seeing her magic face when I turned on the set after midnight- Our Lady of Dissolution was presiding over the catastrophe of the city. All was in order, even if it were the entropic order of disorder."

plantibug:

hey…..it’s getting colder so…….sorry….I don’t make the rules….but……you have to come cuddle with me……thanks

(via transbians)

It’s been at least a year since I last went adventuring and it took me only minutes at the airport to remember- I am never better and more fully myself than when I’m uprooted and thrust into the unknown. I’ve been still too long, I need to make this...

It’s been at least a year since I last went adventuring and it took me only minutes at the airport to remember- I am never better and more fully myself than when I’m uprooted and thrust into the unknown. I’ve been still too long, I need to make this my world again.

#wanderlust #redeyesfrommyredeye #transtravelers (at Logan International Airport (BOS))

eatingsoapboxes —–> banishingsoapboxes

eatingsoapboxes:

eatingsoapboxes:

I’m sick of my likes and replies not showing up on people’s notes, so I’m going to switch to one of my alternate accounts and let this one run out its queue before dropping into silence.

If you all want to follow me there instead of here, you’ll get 100% more interactions with me.

I had a bit of a snafu earlier with parent blogs/side blogs, so if you previously followed the new url, please go back and follow it again.

I’m sorry to be a bother, but such is life on this vicious hell site.

(via eatingsoapboxes-blog)

inneroptics: “ Jock Sturges “A Note.” Life is the only way to get covered in leaves, catch your breath on sand, rise on wings; to be a dog, or stroke its warm fur; to tell pain from everything it’s not; to squeeze inside events, dawdle in views, to...

inneroptics:

Jock Sturges

 “A Note.” 

Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on sand,
rise on wings;

to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;

to tell pain
from everything it’s not;

to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes;

An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held with the lamp switched off;

and if only once
to stumble on a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,

mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;

and to keep on not knowing
something important

Wislawa Szymborksa

(via madeoftungsten)