At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare Caitlin Moran (via artvevo)

(via sandwich-enthusiast)

I feel like I’m just now going through puberty

You don’t have to be pretty. You don’t owe prettiness to anyone. Not to your boyfriend/spouse/partner, not to your co-workers, especially not to random men on the street. You don’t owe it to your mother, you don’t owe it to your children, you don’t owe it to civilization in general. Prettiness is not a rent you pay for occupying a space marked “female”. Erin McKean

(Source : dressaday.com, via abalonella)

When someone tells you, ‘I love you,’ and then you feel, ‘Oh, I must be worthy after all,’ that’s an illusion. That’s not true. Or someone says, ‘I hate you,’ and you think, ‘Oh, God, I knew it; I’m not very worthy,’ that’s not true either. Neither one of these thoughts hold any intrinsic reality. They are an overlay. When someone says, ‘I love you,’ he is telling you about himself, not you. When someone says, ‘I hate you,’ she is telling you about herself, not you. World views are self views—literally. Adyashanti  (via ohhhkat)

(Source : lazyyogi, via abalonella)

v-eck:

Emily DiDonato by Mark Segal for Lui Magazine July-August 2014
8dy:

Sincerely Yours,

"Sincerely Yours, is a graphic design exhibition by nine designers who had recently completed their MA Graphic Design course at the London College of Communication.  The exhibition showcases a body of work from a group of diverse individuals who have approached the design practice in an investigatory and research-based method. The projects presented deal with contemporary issues that range from the social and political to the personal and cultural. The 9 participating designers took part in the making of the visual identity and the various communication applications of the show.
 www.sincerelyyoursshow.com “


project by:Marwan Kaabour

the only thing I do in poetry is push pretty words together and it’s my minor

givenchyrunway:

Kaufmanfranco Autumn/Winter 2014-15
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