lizkorutz.wordpress.com/Andy Gilmore
Reblogged from nezart design
ethandthorn:

modosaurus:

new world warblers (by jeva jeva)

Charley Harper-esque

ethandthorn:

modosaurus:

new world warblers (by jeva jeva)

Charley Harper-esque

Reblogged from A Garden Life
umla:

Suburb by Camilla Engman on Flickr.

umla:

Suburb by Camilla Engman on Flickr.

Reblogged from A Garden Life
Reblogged from nezart design

agorillashebe:

Root Sculptures by Kim Sun Hyuk

Reblogged from for the record
nezartdesign:

Pine, Lake Tenaya, Yosemite National Park/photo by Edward Weston, 1937

nezartdesign:

Pine, Lake Tenaya, Yosemite National Park/photo by Edward Weston, 1937

Reblogged from nezart design
Reblogged from nezart design

For his series titled “Drift”, photographer David Burdeny traveled along roads in Canada, France, Japan, England, Belgium, and the USA, and captured the shifting light and color of the diverse landscapes by shooting at slow shutter speeds.

Reblogged from well are you?
paperpackages:

ugh i love this

paperpackages:

ugh i love this

He awoke each morning with the desire to do right,
to be a good and meaningful person,
to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was,
happy.
And during the course of each day
his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach.
By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right,
or nothing was right for him,
and by the desire to be alone.
By evening he was fulfilled:
alone in the magnitude of his grief,
alone in his aimless guilt,
alone even in his loneliness.
I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over,
I am not sad.
As if he might one day convince himself.
Or fool himself.
Or convince others—
the only thing worse than being sad
is for others to know that you are sad.
I am not sad. I am not sad.
Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room.
He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed,
like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all.
And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage,
having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping.
And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire
to be somewhere else, someone else,
someone else somewhere else.
I am not sad.
Jonathan Safran Foer: Everything is Illuminated, 2002 …wow. (via nezartdesign)
Reblogged from nezart design
I must be a mermaid. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.
Anaïs Nin [via creatingaquietmind] (via monamade)
Reblogged from MonaMade