glub-on-it:

have this while I’m struggling with transitions

glub-on-it:

have this while I’m struggling with transitions

(via sexual-feelings)

D

D

I can never unlove you. I’ll just love you in a different way now.

Marco, Starting Over Again  (via sexual-feelings)

(Source: psych-facts, via sexual-feelings)

vivalaglamourpuss:

lennykravitzscarf:

(source)
for every derailer trying to justify black genocide by insisting that, since we kill each other, cops can kill us too


Give this to the NAACP with a tall glass of “Shut the Fuck Up.”

vivalaglamourpuss:

lennykravitzscarf:

(source)

for every derailer trying to justify black genocide by insisting that, since we kill each other, cops can kill us too

Give this to the NAACP with a tall glass of “Shut the Fuck Up.”

(Source: yungsnape, via knowledgeequalsblackpower)

dynamicafrica:

Speakers For The Dead: Documentary about the original black settlers of Priceville, Ontario Canada.

When Irish settlers first moved to the area now known as Priceville in Ontario Canada, to their surprise, they found a community of black people already living there.

This documentary reveals some of the hidden history of black people in Canada.

In the 1930s in rural Ontario, a farmer buried the tombstones of a black cemetery to make way for a potato patch. In the 1980s, descendants of the original settlers, Black and White, came together to restore the cemetery, but there were hidden truths no one wanted to discuss.

Deep racial wounds were opened. Scenes of the cemetery excavation, interviews with residents and re-enactments—including one of a baseball game where a broken headstone is used for home plate—add to the film’s emotional intensity.

By Jennifer Holness, & David Sutherland, 2000.

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(via knowledgeequalsblackpower)

nubbsgalore:

astrophotography by david lane in utah’s bryce canyon national park and capital reef national park, colorado’s fish creek falls, and yellowstone national park

(via aleksakura)

stankonia:

Method Man teaching the lesson.

(via hip-hop-lifestyle)

bollymunster:

stoneybarbie:

astral-nexus:

thinkdream-love:

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/3188236

Most accurate visual representation of psychedelics I’ve ever fucking seen.

^^^^^^

Oh god I love

(via aleksakura)

thatisludicrous:

castiels-celestiel-dick:

vinegod:

Some people say I look like this guy by MrLegenDarius

jfc

OH MY GOD YES

(via hip-hop-lifestyle)

Brilliant short story about love:

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the 4 pups, and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard.

As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt tug on his overalls. … He looked down into the eyes of a little boy.

"Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies."

"Well," said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat of the back of his neck, "these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money."

The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. “I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?”

"Sure," said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle. "Here Dolly!" he called.

Out from the doghouse and down ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur.

The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.

As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed
something else stirring inside the doghouse.

Slowly another little ball appeared, this one noticeably smaller.

Down the ramp it slid. Then in a awkward manner, the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up….

"I want that one," the little boy said, pointing to the runt.

The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you don’t want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would.”

With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe.

Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see sir, I don’t run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands.”

With tears in his eyes, the farmer reached down and picked up the little pup. Holding it carefully he handed it to the little boy.

"How much?" asked the little boy.

"No charge," answered the farmer, "There’s no charge for love."

She was the kind of girl who no one really noticed at first. She’d sit there quietly without a sound and if you said hi you’d be lucky to get a smile and a nod.

But if you looked closely, you would notice her fingers tapping on the desk, playing an imaginary piano. You would hear her humming under her breath, just loud enough to orchestrate an entire symphony for one and avoid the ‘what are you singing?’.

And if you asked her what she thought of ‘that film’ you’d probably end up talking to yourself, because she would much rather you ask her opinion on the creation of the universe or how war and poverty are justified.

In fact, she didn’t so mind that no one noticed her, because when she was loud the ground trembled beneath her feet and the mountains echoed her roar.

Her loudness wasn’t something everyone could handle, so when he walked up to her and they began talking about the world in all its wonder, her heart gave a little sigh, as if to say “Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #30 (via blossomfully)

Strange as it may seem, I still hope for the best, even though the best, like an interesting piece of mail, so rarely arrives, and even when it does it can be lost so easily.

Lemony Snicket (via sherlocks)

Utrecht, the Netherlands (c)

(Source: transsexualtransylvania)