We’re adrift on a sailboat,
My love is the sea
Yours is the horizon,
Constant and steady

(Source: Spotify)

This was posted 2 weeks ago. It has 0 notes.

Boats by Cyril Wong

You and your photographs of boats;
that repeated metaphor for departure,

or simply the possibility of a voyage?
What you cannot tell me, you tell me

with a vessel and its single passenger,
eyes fixed on some skylit conclusion.

Set apart and starkly upon a canvas
of tractable waves, brought to still

by the trigger-click of your camera,
like the sound a key makes when it

releases the lock. Your heart became
that lock; these images are how you have

always articulated distance, a withdrawal.
Darling, there are just as many ways

of saying goodbye as there are ways
of letting you go. The boat is narrow

like the width of my heart after
impossible loss, cruel resignation;

this heart you ride in. Love, if this is how
you choose to leave me, let me let you. 

from Below: Absence
This was posted 3 weeks ago. It has 5 notes.
artgutowski:

Dhaka, Bangladesh
5 km to airport

Will be here in less than a month!

artgutowski:

Dhaka, Bangladesh

5 km to airport

Will be here in less than a month!

(via fuckyeahsouthasia)

This was posted 3 weeks ago. It has 49 notes. .
Rachel Aviv, God Knows Where I Am, The New Yorker, May 30, 2011.

Rachel Aviv, God Knows Where I Am, The New Yorker, May 30, 2011.

This was posted 3 weeks ago. It has 0 notes. .

It was easier when I could think the way that everyone else seems to think: that a brain is just a brain, iconic in its structure. I used to picture gray strands, film, all of it looped and loped together. Now I see apartment buildings, poorly constructed and impossibly built, the kind you find along highways. I picture homes stacked above other homes, people cooking omelets on broken burners, heaters plugged in and oscillating. Most days, the residents of these homes live peacefully among one another—they take showers, sing songs, and bake brownies—but one day, an oven’s left on. Or someone forgets to unplug the iron. Or maybe that’s not it, either—maybe the people have nothing to do with it at all. But still come these chemical explosions, far too small and too complex to see, sending red, sparking embers into the drywall of our minds.

“Fire!” we say. “Fire!” But still we stand there and watch it burn.

Sick, Amy Butcher. http://therumpus.net/2013/01/sick/
This was posted 3 weeks ago. It has 1 note.
explore-blog:

Simple, stirring cover by Boston magazine design director Brian Struble using actual running shoes worn in last week’s Boston marathon.

explore-blog:

Simple, stirring cover by Boston magazine design director Brian Struble using actual running shoes worn in last week’s Boston marathon.

(Source: )

This was posted 3 weeks ago. It has 3,026 notes. .

Places in Spaces

So many places on my mind today. Boston, Burma, China, Bangladesh. Three out of four of these places are currently going through horrendous things - so much pain and loss. They have different ties to me - one is my ancestral homeland. Another is my adopted one. The third lit me up, and still does. And the fourth - the fourth is where I will be for the next few months. 

Have feet, will walk - in search of places in spaces. 

This was posted 1 month ago. It has 1 note.

Perspective

(Source: dooming, via frankocean)

This was posted 1 month ago. It has 45,467 notes.

Note to Self:

1. Just follow a couple of news sources, like NPR and Boston Globe, who are trying their best to be factual. Stay awaaay from the TV.

2. Look at animal pictures. Like these. And be thankful for Buzzfeed’s existence.

3. Be with people you love.

4. Exercise control over your fingers and try not to post unhelpful things on Facebook.

5. Eat.

6. And sleep. 

This was posted 1 month ago. It has 2 notes.

Balloon sellers in Afghanistan
[sources: 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06]

Overdone but no less beautiful.

(Source: desroubins, via ohkaleidoscope)

This was posted 1 month ago. It has 11,682 notes.