i giorni della locusta

home is the uncertain smile

edt:

(via benjaminhilts)

magicmolly:

Taking notes in a dark theater

home is the smallest wound.

sarahgoodreau:

and the giant will devour us all.

we are far too small.

home was a place above the clouds. those days i could’n stare anywhere. i ran on dead bodies.

sarahgoodreau:

under the ground.

i realize all i ever do on this thing is post pictures i take or pictures i draw.

i used to keep a journal. somewhere out there in the internet jungle. day to day thoughts and actions turned too day to day. or maybe it was just my inability to finish things that ended it. i probably just found something better to do.

maybe i will pick it up again.

home is never. home is again.

sarahgoodreau:

it’s been a while, i’ve been busy for a while. tonight i am painting houses on the walls.

sarahgoodreau:

and an older one.

the velvet underground and nico.

home was a cradle. home will be a grave.

sarahgoodreau:

a tiny house. or a giant house seen from far away.

antikris:

peterwknox:

Feels like Doomsday in New York right now.

non funzionerebbe neanche così

roshroshrosh:

amayadori:

ジョナス・メカス

boredom is your fault

femmefatal:

roshroshrosh:

amayadori:

Rita Bernstein

since mom died she calls us everyday

intweetion:

(via madrelobo)