8BitNiblit

Milk * Honey * Science

Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.

—William Faulkner (via hqlines)

I wouldn’t tell my nine-year-old self anything! I’ve seen Back to the Future enough to know that you don’t mess with time. Nice try, bro.

—Chris Pratt, responding to “What if you could tell your nine-year-old self, “One day, you’ll be starring in a film based on these comics you love?” - Rolling Stone, Issue 1215. (via captainsassmerica)

(via nocountryforoldjetpacks)

wearethetay:

jedavu:

Charming Illustrated Cinemagraphs Reflect The Idyllic Mood Of Lazy Summer Days

by Rebecca Mock 

You can feel each one…

(via mechanic-coyote)

jenbekmanprojects:

Response to Print of Kudzu, Texas by Laura PlagemanThis Week’s Paired: Laura Plageman + Janice N. HarringtonShaking the GrassEvening, and all my ghosts come back to melike red banty hens to catalpa limbsand chicken-wired hutches, clucking, clucking,and falling, at last, into their head-under-wing sleep.I think about the field of grass I lay in once,between Omaha and Lincoln.  It was summer, I think.The air smelled green, and wands of windy green, a-sway,a-sway, swayed over me.  I lay on green sodlike a prairie snake letting the sun warm me.What does a girl think about alonein a field of grass, beneath a sky as brightas an Easter dress, beneath a green wind?Maybe I have not shaken the grass.All is vanity.Maybe I never rose from that green field.All is vanity.Maybe I did no more than swallow deep, deep breathsand spill them out into story:  all is vanity.Maybe I listened to the wind sighing and shivered,spinning, awhirl amidst the bluestemand green lashes:  O my beloved!  O my beloved!I lay in a field of grass once, and then went on.Even the hollow my body made is gone.Janice N. Harrington

jenbekmanprojects:

Response to Print of Kudzu, Texas by Laura Plageman

This Week’s Paired: Laura Plageman + Janice N. Harrington

Shaking the Grass

Evening, and all my ghosts come back to me
like red banty hens to catalpa limbs
and chicken-wired hutches, clucking, clucking,
and falling, at last, into their head-under-wing sleep.

I think about the field of grass I lay in once,
between Omaha and Lincoln.  It was summer, I think.
The air smelled green, and wands of windy green, a-sway,
a-sway, swayed over me.  I lay on green sod
like a prairie snake letting the sun warm me.

What does a girl think about alone
in a field of grass, beneath a sky as bright
as an Easter dress, beneath a green wind?

Maybe I have not shaken the grass.
All is vanity.

Maybe I never rose from that green field.
All is vanity.

Maybe I did no more than swallow deep, deep breaths
and spill them out into story:  all is vanity.

Maybe I listened to the wind sighing and shivered,
spinning, awhirl amidst the bluestem
and green lashes:  O my beloved!  O my beloved!

I lay in a field of grass once, and then went on.
Even the hollow my body made is gone.

Janice N. Harrington

salahmah:

Chefchaouen, a small town in northern Morocco, has a rich history, beautiful natural surroundings and wonderful architecture, but what it’s most famous for are the striking and vivid blue walls of many of the buildings in its “old town” sector, or medina.

The maze-like medina sector, like those of most of the other towns in the area, features white-washed buildings with a fusion of Spanish and Moorish architecture. The brilliantly blue walls, however, seem to be unique to Chefchaouen. They are said to have been introduced to the town by Jewish refugees in 1930, who considered blue to symbolize the sky and heaven. The color caught on, and now many also believe that the blue walls serve to repel mosquitoes as well (mosquitoes dislike clear and moving water).

Whatever the reason, the town’s blue walls attract visitors who love to wander the town’s narrow streets and snap some beautiful photos. 

(via blacksheepboy-)