Stunning Fishnet Tights Will Make You Feel Like A Mermaid On Earth

FIVE CHEESE ZITI AL FORNO

Follow for recipes

Is this how you roll?

Just Garland

Sometimes we want our bodies to do a better job at showing the things that hurt us, the stories we keep inside us.

Ava Dellaira, Love Letters to the Dead (via ellacalm)

so my english teacher put up new posters in her class and

Hades ascended in his war chariot to confront her, wreathed in shadows and flame, pulled by dark horses.  The dryads of the poplar and willow trees fled before him, and the grasses shriveled to ash under obsidian hooves. “BRIGHT LADY. I OFFER A THRONE. A KINGDOM. A CROWN. DESCEND WITH ME. RULE OVER THE HALLS OF THE DEAD” His voice echoed with centuries of stone, his eyes bright with black flames.   Persephone eyed the tall and terrible Lord thoughtfully. “You’re scorching my violets.”

The Illustrated Hades and Persephone, Megan C. Lloyd (via thirdchildart)

I always preferred the company of the dead. You try complaining about your life, surrounded by their wailing. Call it perspective.  And the living, well, they can’t look at me for too long, without dissolving into their most basic parts, only good for my cousin’s touch. Nobody likes looking at their own mortality. Everybody wants to die a hero. They don’t want to meet me with my howling dogs and lingering nature and blank eyes. I’m not unkind, no matter what the other Deaths say. I allow lingering goodbyes, lovers to meet again, scores to be settled. Just ask Patroclus, his hands fading  as he watched his lover weep.

Melinoe (a.v.p)

Life is tragic simply because the earth turns and the sun inexorably rises and sets, and one day, for each of us, the sun will go down for the last, last time. Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, which is the only fact we have. It seems to me that one ought to rejoice in the fact of death—ought to decide, indeed, to earn one’s death by confronting with passion the conundrum of life. One is responsible to life: It is the small beacon in that terrifying darkness from which we come and to which we shall return. One must negotiate this passage as nobly as possible, for the sake of those who are coming after us.

James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time (via merulae)

Time passes you by...

Slowly and all at once as vivid as the shining amber lights on the wet concrete at night.

Walking on that burnt orange stone, home, home.

I look to the past and it's forgotten.

I'm standing outside in the driving rain, it ushers me away.

Pressed up to the window panes, fogging up sodden glass.

Looking at a stranger's past.

That little room with its sandy paint and coffee curtains.

Lights snapped on and Nora Jones sings out of the stereo.

It's soft and milky.

Clouding and brewing softly.

Time.

Past is present and present is future.

And it's all already passed me by.

I flip through shining photos and those familiar faces smile at the ghosts behind the long, lost cameras.

Choppy hair and sharply slit winds softened by a flash decades ago.

Moments so dear, a sun so golden, people lost to ticking clocks, they forgot long ago.

And they kept it all down.

Those shining cards with their little people.

The faces you see in the warm ripples of a bath.

No malice, just ghosts.

Ghosts of happy days and burnt orange stones.

Do you remember their names?

Did they ever learn mine?

I walk and I know I'm already gone.

Just a face in a photo.

I stand faded in smooth cards on Christmases and birthday nights in orange lights.

Smiling and laughing.

Running on tiles, on wood, on carpet, sand and stone.

I stand young and small.

I doubt I could even tell you why these photos exist now.

But they did.

Those people breathed that long lost air and time thawed once the flash faded.

We carry on.

Until the next photo's taken

valentines day is coming up,, if you ever wanted to gift me a sword with an engraved romantic message,,, now is the time

mood