Bench By Night

mr-afrocentric:

“Night Song” by Wood Harris. Many know Wood Harris from his many acting roles but not many knew he enjoyed poetry as well.

Wood Harris is such a good person…

therecordlegacy asked:
I miss you.

I miss YOU, my dear. LOVE.


Gotye - Somebody That I Used To Know (feat. Kimbra) - official video (by gotyemusic)

rad video, great song.

laboratoireechappatoire:

Camille Claudel

laboratoireechappatoire:

Camille Claudel

Willy Ronis, Le Vigneron girondin, 1945

Willy Ronis, Le Vigneron girondin, 1945

by Kim Addonizio

by Kim Addonizio

(Source: writersalmanac.publicradio.org, via anarexic)


(Source: yimmyayo)


(Source: yimmyayo)

Don’t attach yourself to anyone who shows you the least bit of attention because you’re lonely. Loneliness is the human condition. No one is ever going to fill that space. The best you can do is know yourself… know what you want.
White Oleander (via romanticimp)

(Source: venula, via romanticimp)

bon-aventures:

The Bogarts during the filming of The African Queen, 1951.

(Source: bonaventures, via freecocaine)

Romania, 1990 - An orphanage for ” incurables”.
by James Nachtwey

Romania, 1990 - An orphanage for ” incurables”.

by James Nachtwey

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Theodore Roethke, from “The Waking” 

(Source: senseofchampagnechic, via piggymcpigpigs)

Willy RonisVincent Aeromodeliste, 1952

Willy Ronis
Vincent Aeromodeliste, 1952

by Jacob Aue Sobol, from Bangkok Encounter

by Jacob Aue Sobol, from Bangkok Encounter

I Think Continually Of Those Who Were Truly Great, by Stephen Spender

I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul’s history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.

What is precious is never to forget
The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth.
Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light
Nor its grave evening demand for love.
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.

Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields
See how these names are fêted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life
Who wore at their hearts the fire’s center.
Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honor.

(Source: eecs.berkeley.edu)

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