zubat:

Tracy Caldwell looks down on Earth from the International Space Station, 2010.

zubat:

Tracy Caldwell looks down on Earth from the International Space Station, 2010.


98 notes | Reblog | 5 hours ago

(Source: tiemydurag)


10,546 notes | Reblog | 10 hours ago
hp-sea4:

Sunset in Accra #skylines #accra

hp-sea4:

Sunset in Accra
#skylines #accra


21 notes | Reblog | 10 hours ago

(Source: onlytwitterpics)


128,207 notes | Reblog | 1 day ago
rosesinaglass:

Green Lake near St. Austell by jonathan charles photo on Flickr.

rosesinaglass:

Green Lake near St. Austell by jonathan charles photo on Flickr.


16,330 notes | Reblog | 1 day ago

"My life is made up of ‘I’m sorry’. I feel like I have to apologize to people, to things, to life itself. It’s like, ‘I’m sorry to be here’. I don’t want to disturb anyone."

-Yohji Yamamoto (via girlchoking)

(Source: miszkinis)


183,252 notes | Reblog | 1 day ago
vicemag:

This Is What Developing Acute Schizophrenia Feels Like
A year ago this winter, I began to not recognize myself. 
Sleep was the first thing to change. Progressively, over the course of about two weeks, I began struggling to drift off. As a 24-year-old man with a good supply of hash, this had never been a problem before. It was so odd. Seemingly out of the blue, I’d get into bed at night and not be able to shut off my brain. Thoughts would grow tendrils and loop onto other thoughts, tangling together like a big wall of ivy. Some nights, I’d pull the covers over my head, grab my face hard in my hands, and whisper, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
Eventually I would be able to get to sleep, but I’d wake up feeling peculiar, like I had forgotten to do or tell someone something. Hunger wasn’t as aggressive as it usually was during this time, either. Normally I bolt downstairs to pour a heaping bowl of Frosted Flakes the second my eyes open. Instead, I woke each morning with a sick, creeping feeling in my gut. Still, I carried on as normal, thinking I’d just lay off the hash for a bit. That was probably it. I wasn’t panicked. 
I carried on my work at a local wine shop and tried to push what was happening during the night to the back of my mind. I got through the days OK, if slightly bleary-eyed—but looking back now I can see that I had started to struggle with simple conversations. 
If my boss told me to check a delivery, it’d take me a few seconds to process what he was saying, like two or three people had said it at the same time and I couldn’t make out the clear instruction. Looking at morning delivery slips and trying to make sense of them in my head was like trying to make out a tree in the fog—possible, but hard.
Continue

vicemag:

This Is What Developing Acute Schizophrenia Feels Like

A year ago this winter, I began to not recognize myself. 

Sleep was the first thing to change. Progressively, over the course of about two weeks, I began struggling to drift off. As a 24-year-old man with a good supply of hash, this had never been a problem before. It was so odd. Seemingly out of the blue, I’d get into bed at night and not be able to shut off my brain. Thoughts would grow tendrils and loop onto other thoughts, tangling together like a big wall of ivy. Some nights, I’d pull the covers over my head, grab my face hard in my hands, and whisper, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

Eventually I would be able to get to sleep, but I’d wake up feeling peculiar, like I had forgotten to do or tell someone something. Hunger wasn’t as aggressive as it usually was during this time, either. Normally I bolt downstairs to pour a heaping bowl of Frosted Flakes the second my eyes open. Instead, I woke each morning with a sick, creeping feeling in my gut. Still, I carried on as normal, thinking I’d just lay off the hash for a bit. That was probably it. I wasn’t panicked. 

I carried on my work at a local wine shop and tried to push what was happening during the night to the back of my mind. I got through the days OK, if slightly bleary-eyed—but looking back now I can see that I had started to struggle with simple conversations. 

If my boss told me to check a delivery, it’d take me a few seconds to process what he was saying, like two or three people had said it at the same time and I couldn’t make out the clear instruction. Looking at morning delivery slips and trying to make sense of them in my head was like trying to make out a tree in the fog—possible, but hard.

Continue


3,422 notes | Reblog | 1 day ago
mapsontheweb:

Most friendly countries for foreign tourists

mapsontheweb:

Most friendly countries for foreign tourists


455 notes | Reblog | 3 days ago
neuromaencer:

cooled conservatories by wilkinson eyre architects

neuromaencer:

cooled conservatories by wilkinson eyre architects

(Source: neuromaencer)


45,191 notes | Reblog | 4 days ago

By Peter de Potter, for Dust Magazine Issue #2.

By Peter de Potter, for Dust Magazine Issue #2.

(Source: visseral)


4,170 notes | Reblog | 4 days ago
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