Kelsey Prud'homme
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Posted on 17th Sep at 12:41 AM, with 138,968 notes
thebsdboys:

OK first you’re being a total dick right now,
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thebsdboys:

OK first you’re being a total dick right now,

Posted on 17th Sep at 12:41 AM, with 216 notes
soudasouda:

theapartmentdk: Our favorit Muller van Severen rocking chair #welove #textile #theapartment @mullervanseverenPosted by SoudaSouda Follow Souda on instagram, pinterest, facebook, or tumblr.
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soudasouda:

theapartmentdk: Our favorit Muller van Severen rocking chair #welove #textile #theapartment @mullervanseveren

Posted by SoudaSouda
Follow Souda on instagram, pinterest, facebook, or tumblr.

Posted on 17th Sep at 12:38 AM, with 218 notes

yearoftheglitch:

Consequence of Infinitely Discursive Vision Technologies (2014)
A Site Specific Installation @ Fridman Gallery August 28 - Sept 4, 2014
Materials: Neon, 3 channel Video w/ Audio, Projectors, Flatscreen TV, Media Players, Wire, Audio Amplifier, Speakers
Posted on 17th Sep at 12:32 AM, with 36,617 notes
quietandsarcastic:

Read it again:  EVERY.  SINGLE.  REPUBLICAN.  Yes, that includes women. 
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quietandsarcastic:

Read it again:  EVERY.  SINGLE.  REPUBLICAN.  Yes, that includes women. 

Posted on 17th Sep at 12:28 AM, with 2,275 notes
"

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

"

W.B. Yeats, “The Second Coming.”

I find myself thinking about Yeats’ “rough beast” a lot of late. Yeats thought a shared apocalypse was nigh. But it seems to the beast comes for us one at a time.

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