InfinitelyOphelia

The World is Quiet Here
  • rowena: i'm looking over the plans
  • godric: yeah
  • rowena: what's this weird series of rooms accessible only by a hatch in a room on the right hand side of the third floor corridor
  • godric: oh that's for if we ever need to hide a priceless artifact for some reason
  • rowena: why would we hide a priceless artifact in a school
  • godric: safest place
  • rowena: fucking is it though?? there's a giant snake somewhere
  • [in the distance]
  • salazar: there's no snake you are wrong stop being wrong

escapekit:

The Last Billboard

A 36-foot-long billboard located at the corner of Highland and Baum in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Every month, a different individual is invited to take over the billboard to broadcast personalized messages, which are spelt out using wooden letters that are changed by hand. 

you can follow it’s tumblr here. 

(via mollersaurus)

I was always looking for myself in the wrong places
in the hands of men who knew how to curve my body like melted glass but did not know how to gather when I turned to rainwater in their hands
whiskey bottles, even the ends of cigarette butts or their ashes
I looked everywhere except in the places I needed to
the ocean, the open road, in myself.

—Azra.T “reflections” (via 5000letters)

(via squeats)

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem,
I whisper with my lips close to your ear.
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.

—Walt Whitman, “To You” (via feellng)

[…] in that drunken place
you would
like to hand your heart to her
and say
touch it
but then
give it back.

—Charles Bukowski (via cartographe)

(via squeats)

What happened, happened once. So now it’s best
in memory — an orange he sliced: the skin
unbroken, then the knife, the chilled wedge
lifted to my mouth, his mouth, the thin
membrane between us, the exquisite orange,
tongue, orange, my nakedness, and his,
the way he pushed me up against the fridge —
Now I get to feel his hands again, the kiss
that didn’t last, but sent some neural twin
flashing wildly through the cortex. Love’s
merciless, the way it travels on
and keeps emitting light. Beside the stove
we ate an orange. And there were purple flowers
on the table. And we still had hours.

Kim Addonizio  (Stolen Moments)

(Source: spinals, via squeats)