encore, encore.

"‎Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is ‘Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.’"

Nick Miller (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

favorite.

(via littlelostgirl)

(Source : past-l-i-f-e, via basquavita)

golden hour on the spanish steps. (at Piazza di Spagna)

"I decided to break the law to provide a necessary medical service because women were dying at the hands of butchers and incompetent quacks, and there was no one there to help them. The law was barbarous, cruel and unjust. I had been in a concentration camp, and I knew what suffering was. If I can ease suffering, I feel perfectly justified in doing so."

Dr. Henry Morgentaler, a Canadian doctor who was arrested four times for performing abortions, but whose arrests eventually led to the 1988 Canadian Supreme Court decision that legalized abortion in the country. He died this week at the age of 90. Good obit in the NY Times.

(via ilyagerner)

(via polyverse)

tajajanel:

this night was everything.

(via witchandthewardrobe)

there is nothing quite like summer sun on white marble. (at Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II)

(Source : souryellows, via davethebrave)

tremblingcolors:

Vatican City, Rome

and tomorrow, rome.

likeawritingdesk:

i once paid a man to carve a flower of
good fortune into my arm despite my lack
of luck. he told me i had thin blood each
time he dug the colours deeper into my skin
and the smell of anemia hit the floor like a 
bomb going off; i left the parlour with the taste
of pennies in my mouth

so now i’ve planted gardens on my radius and
ulna and let them line my humerus so i can’t 
forget to water them and no one can tear them
up from the soft soil of my skin

every so often people will comment on my 
arms and tell me they are beautiful so i say 
‘thank you’ but i didn’t do anything myself and 
they pry and ask ‘why,’ and i can’t describe the
feeling of never being told by anyone that i was
beautiful growing up

i feel my stomach drop to my knees when i see
the news reports and the body counts. i feel like
shit when i cry about frivolous things like how you
told me once that venice is sinking or how you
can’t fall in love with me

i go to the racetrack once and a while and watch
the horses run like we used to and sometimes i place
a bet but i never win because that would be too easy,

wouldn’t it

(via no-dairy-no-eggs)

(via pepperedminds)

i am scared to show my body here.  i don’t wear short skirts and socks and certainly never heels, i put on a bra when i normally wouldn’t consider it.  when it is hot i wear dresses but carefully and i never smile at anyone on the street.  i feel stifled by this, caged in my body by leering eyes and hollered comments, questions about the colour of my pubic hair, overt ‘appreciation’ of the bright explosion on my head.  it is a particular type of man here who does these things, who feels he has a right to invade my daily life and physical space because i stand out.  the implication every time is that i’m asking for it, that i’m a target.  

i thought about dying my hair brown.  i thought about wearing less makeup.  i thought about dressing only in black and gray.  i coloured my hair brighter and took off my bra. 

(Source : dirtyprettything)

"When they ask why we stayed together for so long I say, I don’t know. I just know that we cried at the exact same time in every movie. I know we blushed everyday for the first two years. I know I always stole the covers and she never woke me up.

I know the exact look on her face, the first night she used my toothbrush. The next day, I brushed my teeth like thirtysome times, ‘cause I didn’t want to let her go. You have to understand when it hurt to love her, it hurt the way the light hurts your eyes in the middle of the night, but I had to see, even through the ruin, if what we were burying were seeds."

Andrea Gibson, Prism  (via lesbian-a-la-mode)

(Source : talkaboutourbigplans, via genuwine)

pigmenting:

Ruslan Khasanov

"The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea."

Isak Dinesen  (via thatkindofwoman)

I am covered in sand, salt, and sweat after a hot sunday bike ride to the beach. there is so much beauty in the movement of bodies, in a cold ocean, in strawberries and sandy knees.

(via saturnoregresa)

THIS IS HACHIBEI. I FOLLOW HIM ON INSTAGRAM AND EVERY MORNING HE MAKES MY FUCKING DAY.

(Source : mypugobsession, via slaughtercountry)

fandomsandfeminism:

I want to make a point right here. It isn’t a super new or original point, but its one we need to say more often.

I do not want to be equal to men.

Especially not to white, straight, cis, able-bodied, nuero-typical men.

Because those men? They have the ability to oppress others, and marginalize others, to hurt, and rape, and even kill others and get away with it in ways that I can’t.

And I don’t want to be able to do that that. 

I don’t want equality. I want liberation.

I want to tear down the scaffoldings of social inequality brick by brick and stone by stone until that kind of social hierarchy is not only destroyed, but is universally deemed to be repugnant by all. I want the social, cultural, economic, historical, and legal forces that enforce oppression and marginalization across gender, race, class, gender identity, sexual orientation, and ableist lines to be universally recognized as a violence and obliterated, to only exist as a mortifying embarrassment burned into the history books that is so repulsive that our great grandchildren will refuse to believe it ever existed. 

I will accept nothing less.