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You may talk. And I may listen. And miracles might happen.
– Ernest Hemingway  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: teenager90s, via thatkindofwoman)

mycolorbook:

"Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may again touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey-castle sequence of bumpings-into and tumblings-apart."
The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Salman Rushdie


(S.C.Z. - Salzburg)

mycolorbook:

"Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may again touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey-castle sequence of bumpings-into and tumblings-apart."

The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Salman Rushdie

(S.C.Z. - Salzburg)

artmastered:

image

Herbert Bayer, Chromatic Intersection, 1970, screenprint on paper, 75 x 75.2 cm, Tate Britain, London. Source

image

Herbert Bayer, Chromatic Triangulation II, 1970, screenprint on paper, 75 x 75 cm, Tate Britain, London. Source

image

Herbert Bayer, Chromatic Twist, 1970, screenprint on paper, 75.2 x 75.2 cm, Tate Britain, London. Source

Werner Herzog’s No-Bullshit Advice to Aspiring Filmmakers and Creative Entrepreneurs

The heart prefers to move against the grain of circumstance; perversity is the soul’s very life.
– John Updike (via mycolorbook)
fleurdulys:

Tulip Fields - Vincent van Gogh
1884

fleurdulys:

Tulip Fields - Vincent van Gogh

1884

(via manjacaprini)

Creativity is allowing oneself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.
– Scott Adams (via mycolorbook)

Greta Gerwig photographed by Jody Rogac [x]

(Source: gretagerwig-daily, via audreyhepburncomplex)

You may talk. And I may listen. And miracles might happen.
– Ernest Hemingway  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: teenager90s, via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: litafficionado)

mycolorbook:

"Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may again touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey-castle sequence of bumpings-into and tumblings-apart."
The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Salman Rushdie


(S.C.Z. - Salzburg)

mycolorbook:

"Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may again touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey-castle sequence of bumpings-into and tumblings-apart."

The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Salman Rushdie

(S.C.Z. - Salzburg)

artmastered:

image

Herbert Bayer, Chromatic Intersection, 1970, screenprint on paper, 75 x 75.2 cm, Tate Britain, London. Source

image

Herbert Bayer, Chromatic Triangulation II, 1970, screenprint on paper, 75 x 75 cm, Tate Britain, London. Source

image

Herbert Bayer, Chromatic Twist, 1970, screenprint on paper, 75.2 x 75.2 cm, Tate Britain, London. Source

Werner Herzog’s No-Bullshit Advice to Aspiring Filmmakers and Creative Entrepreneurs

inspiredbyme:

The shirt off my back.

inspiredbyme:

The shirt off my back.

The heart prefers to move against the grain of circumstance; perversity is the soul’s very life.
– John Updike (via mycolorbook)
fleurdulys:

Tulip Fields - Vincent van Gogh
1884

fleurdulys:

Tulip Fields - Vincent van Gogh

1884

(via manjacaprini)

Creativity is allowing oneself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.
– Scott Adams (via mycolorbook)

Greta Gerwig photographed by Jody Rogac [x]

(Source: gretagerwig-daily, via audreyhepburncomplex)

"You may talk. And I may listen. And miracles might happen."
"The heart prefers to move against the grain of circumstance; perversity is the soul’s very life."
"Creativity is allowing oneself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep."

About:

She was born and then she was eighteen and still she was looking in wonderment at the veins of leaves that matched the veins in her neck. Staring into a mirror she looked and looked and did not find anything but a constellation of freckles and two eyes like oil wells. Black, reflecting rainbows and an unrelenting trap for those who let themselves fall in.

Singapore born, educated in the Northeast.

This is my scrapbook.

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