L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N

Keep your mind set, keep your head home, keep your heart strong, keep your head up.

Kisses <3

Kisses <3

Peek-a-boo! 
Zaara says hi.

Peek-a-boo! 

Zaara says hi.

beesandbombs:

hexagons/boxes, why the heck not

beesandbombs:

hexagons/boxes, why the heck not

nevver:

We love typography
dezeen:

Lix 3D-printing pen allows users to create solid drawings in mid air

gasoline-station:

Geometric Sand Structures

by Calvin Seibert

(Source: itscolossal)

Almost. It’s a big word for me. I feel it everywhere. Almost home. Almost happy. Almost changed. Almost, but not quite. Not yet. Soon, maybe.
— Joan Bauer (via maddierose)

(Source: conflictingheart, via maddierose)

visualgraphc:

Can’t Stop
Raphael Pierson

visualgraphc:

Can’t Stop

Raphael Pierson

(via manwithaspade)

(via euphues)

septagonstudios:

Rachel Caldwell

septagonstudios:

Rachel Caldwell

nevver:

Brilliant
explore-blog:

If you read one thing today, make it Van Gogh on the power of love and its essential role in creative work, in excerpts from his letters to his brother.

explore-blog:

If you read one thing today, make it Van Gogh on the power of love and its essential role in creative work, in excerpts from his letters to his brother.

(Source: icanread)

المدن رائحة: عكا رائحة اليود البحري والبهارات. حيفا رائحة الصنوبر والشراشف المجعلكة. موسكو رائحة الفودكا على الثلج. القاهرة رائحة المانجو والزنجبيل. بيروت رائحة الشمس والبحر والدخان والليمون. باريس رائحة الخبز الطازج والأجبان ومشتقات الفتنة. دمشق رائحة الياسمين والفواكة المجففة. تونس رائحة مسك الليل والملح. الرباط رائحة الحناء والبخور والعسل. وكل مدينة لا تُعرفُ من رائحتها لا يُعوَّل على ذكراها. وللمنافي رائحة مشتركة هي رائحة الحنين إلى ما عداها… رائحة تتذكر رائحة أخرى. رائحة متقطعة الأنفاس، عاطفيّة تقودك كخارطة سياحية كثيرة الاستعمال إلى رائحة المكان الأول. الرائحة ذاكرةٌ وغروب شمس. والغروب هنا توبيخ الجمال للغريب
"Cities are smells: Acre is the smell of iodine and spices. Haifa is the smell of pine and wrinkled sheets. Moscow is the smell of vodka on ice. Cairo is the smell of mango and ginger. Beirut is the smell of the sun, sea, smoke, and lemons. Paris is the smell of fresh bread, cheese, and derivations of enchantment. Damascus is the smell of jasmine and dried fruit. Tunis is the smell of night musk and salt. Rabat is the smell of henna, incense and honey. A city that cannot be known by its smell is unreliable. Exiles have a shared smell: the smell of longing for something else; a smell that remembers another smell. A painting, nostalgic that guides you, like a worn tourist map, to the smell of the original place. A smell is a memory and a setting sun. Sunset, here, is beauty rebuking the stranger. But to love the sunset is not, as they say, one of the attributes of exile.” - Mahmoud Darwish, In the presence of Absence (via darksilenceinsuburbia)

(Source: nowinexile, via darksilenceinsuburbia)

What you deserve will never surpass what you earn.
— Rakishi, “things my father wouldn’t say” - 1914 (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

(Source: 1924.us, via rhetoricalities)