theme ©


Dick Winters and Easy Co. at Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest.

we might walk into an unexpected hour like this one,
the rain pelting the windows like dice, where I enter
your eyes as if they were forests, where you will not
disappear again in the unspoken line after this one.

Richard Jackson, closing lines to “The Shape of Time,” in Resonance (The Ashland Poetry Press, 2010)


Benito Mussolini’s Fascist Party headquarters, Rome, 1934.


The Other Shore - Robert Spencer


The Geography of Melancholy | The American Reader ↘

"In each case, melancholy creates a psychic geography shaped by street-names: the presence of historic avenues, archways, back-alleys doubling as manifestations of absence. The self that wanders through the melancholy city bears the weight of that city’s history: the urban body the point of convergence for the imminent present and the past that no longer exists. 

The urban landscape thus becomes a kind of symbolic network, in which each image—“palaces, scaffolding, blocks of stone”—takes on allegorical meaning for the urban wanderer: telling a story of a history already concluded. Urban space, with its network of personal associations, becomes a graveyard of memory.

…what survives of cities is only memory. …Historic cities are, after all, the legacy of dead men.”

via thehappyweed

The sound of rain needs no translation.

Alan Watts (via antelucanhourglass)


Morocco pink


B L O O D A N D C H A M P A G N E . C O M


San Sebastiano, Mantua, Italy - Leon Battista Alberti


British Butterflies ~ King Penguin Book

What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.

—   小林 一茶 /  Kobayashi Issa, Poems (via antelucanhourglass)


Riga, Latvia

All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.

Henry Ellis (via fewthistle)

note to self. 


River deltas cut through the landscape on the way to the sea in South Iceland.
Photo by Robert Arrington, via http://ift.tt/1jJzlo0