“And in the end, we were all just humans… drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald (via ceruleanlabyrinth)
you end up the worst artist in the past thousand years btw. You shouldn’t even know words like drunk.
Too punk for Punk
Too zen for Zen
Just right for moon-time.
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, circa 1900. “A mill street at night.”
check out my soundcloud
Nabil Hadjarab arrived at Gitmo 11 years ago, in an orange jumpsuit and a diaper, his head covered by a hood, eyes blinded by blackout goggles, mouth gagged, and with headphones blaring white noise into his ears.
At 34, Nabil is four years my senior. We both speak French, draw pictures, and, in our youths, liked to travel to desolate places and have adventures. But Nabil’s days of wanderlust may be over forever. Although he’s been cleared for release since 2007, the US will not return him to his family in France. He has vowed to remain on a hunger strike till he finds freedom or death, whichever happens first.
-It Don’t Gitmo Better Than This: Inside the Dark Heart of Guantanamo Bay. By Molly Crabapple
If something burns your soul with purpose and desire, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. Any other form of existence will be yet another dull book in the library of life.Charles Bukowski (via endlesslyunamusing)