When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks back into you...
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Swag Gainsbourg

Swag Gainsbourg

(Source: catigrun, via americanapparel)

Angelic happenings

delightofsight:

Live in the #sunlight of the #spirit

SPRING D E #light #springdelight

Zooooooooeyyyy D

Zooooooooeyyyy D

(via cunnningstunt)

Fractals, Infinity, Inherent Design

(Source: iahan, via cunnningstunt)

voguelovesme:

Milagros Schmoll by Peter Lindbergh for Vogue Italia September 2013 Supplement

voguelovesme:

Milagros Schmoll by Peter Lindbergh for Vogue Italia September 2013 Supplement

terrysdiary:

We all love Jackie… R.I.P.

terrysdiary:

We all love Jackie… R.I.P.

theniftyfifties:

Grace Kelly photographed by Howell Conant. 

theniftyfifties:

Grace Kelly photographed by Howell Conant. 

(Source: pinterest.com)

Limits, Jorge Luis Borges

IMITS

Jorge Luis Borges



Of all the streets that blur in to the sunset,
There must be one (which, I am not sure)
That I by now have walked for the last time
Without guessing it, the pawn of that Someone

Who fixes in advance omnipotent laws,
Sets up a secret and unwavering scale
for all the shadows, dreams, and forms
Woven into the texture of this life.

If there is a limit to all things and a measure
And a last time and nothing more and forgetfulness,
Who will tell us to whom in this house
We without knowing it have said farewell?

Through the dawning window night withdraws
And among the stacked books which throw
Irregular shadows on the dim table,
There must be one which I will never read.

There is in the South more than one worn gate,
With its cement urns and planted cactus,
Which is already forbidden to my entry,
Inaccessible, as in a lithograph.

There is a door you have closed forever
And some mirror is expecting you in vain;
To you the crossroads seem wide open,
Yet watching you, four-faced, is a Janus.

There is among all your memories one
Which has now been lost beyond recall.
You will not be seen going down to that fountain
Neither by white sun nor by yellow moon.

You will never recapture what the Persian
Said in his language woven with birds and roses,
When, in the sunset, before the light disperses,
You wish to give words to unforgettable things.

And the steadily flowing Rhone and the lake,
All that vast yesterday over which today I bend?
They will be as lost as Carthage,
Scourged by the Romans with fire and salt.

At dawn I seem to hear the turbulent
Murmur of crowds milling and fading away;
They are all I have been loved by, forgotten by;
Space, time, and Borges now are leaving me.

[Translation by Alastair Reid]

Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.Jorge Luis Borges

Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
Jorge Luis Borges

(via budahbutt)

theniftyfifties:

Grace Kelly in ‘To Catch a Thief’, 1955.

theniftyfifties:

Grace Kelly in ‘To Catch a Thief’, 1955.

(Source: pinterest.com)

theniftyfifties:

Grace Kelly photographed by Philippe Halsman, 1954.

theniftyfifties:

Grace Kelly photographed by Philippe Halsman, 1954.

(Source: wehadfacesthen)