“While technically not on the actual roof of the house, this elderly woman attends to her rather comprehensive garden on the elevated plot next to her traditional home in the Bukchon neighborhood in Seoul. Considering the elevated price of produce this year, such a garden could provide considerable savings.” Via koreaunderground and Enderle Travelblog

•  30 May 2013

“To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.”

— Excerpt from A Brief for the Defense by Jack Gilbert

•  30 May 2013

“If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight.”

— Excerpt from A Brief for the Defense by Jack Gilbert

•  30 May 2013

“Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not a language but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses and birds.”

— Excerpt from The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart by Jack Gilbert

•  30 May 2013

I simple love all of it. The different textures, sweater/skirt, the subtle shades of the gold and silver, the colors, the length, and the delicate ornaments, sequins and materials. Rim.

(Source: libertyrose, via focus-damnit)

•  30 May 2013

“Giraffes are this
desire in the dark.”

— Excerpt from The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart by Jack Gilbert

•  30 May 2013

“My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey.”

— Excerpt from The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart by Jack Gilbert

•  30 May 2013

“My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.”

— Excerpt from The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart by Jack Gilbert

•  30 May 2013

“I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can.”

— Excerpt from The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart by Jack Gilbert

•  30 May 2013

“How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite.”

— Excerpt from The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart by Jack Gilbert

•  30 May 2013

“We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.”

— Excerpt from A Brief for the Defense by Jack Gilbert

•  30 May 2013

Delhi, India, 1999 by Pentti Sammallahti via mpdrolet.

•  16 May 2013

“I am a frequency, current flies through. One has
to ride
the spine
No peace [of mind] [of heart], among the other
frequencies.”

— Excerpt from “Ebbtide,” from Never by Jorie Graham

•  16 May 2013

Greetings we can’t remember one day from another

In an anonymous desert of food
I always wave my white blanket to
Greetings thousands crowd the great tent
Although I think they are in error
Greetings we can’t remember who are you

— Sotére Torregian, from “Russian Hill”
     Art Credit Amy Friend via theparisreview.

•  16 May 2013

I love this. The clean and minimalist yet feminine cut, the shade and the color. Prada feature photographed by Katsuhide Morimoto for SPUR Magazine August 2011. Via bienenkiste.

•  27 April 2013