I needed to think backwards for a while. Thinking backwards I could remember the comfort of being curious and alone. 

—Michael Ondaatje, The Cat’s Table. Vintage, 2012

(via metaphorformetaphor:)

Jacaszek - Martwa Cisza

The track is taken from Jacaszek’s album Treny 

The dream sequences are taken from Wim Wenders’s ”Until the end of the world” (1991)

(via les-sources-du-nil:)

(Source: youtu.be)


House of Lanvin 
(French, founded 1889)

Designer: Jeanne Lanvin (French, 1867–1946)

Date: 1938

Culture: French

Medium: silk

Avocado, Kale & Sesame Miso Soba

Serves: 2


150g soba noodles
1/2 avocado
1 tbsp miso paste
1 tsp tamari
1 tbsp sesame oil
3 large kale leaves
2 tbsp toasted sesame seeds


Cook the soba noodles in a pot of boiling water. Once tender drain noodles and run under cold water.

In a bowl mash the avocado and add in the miso paste. Mix together.

Add in the noodles with the tamari and sesame oil and mix until all noodles are coated.

Shred the kale leaves and then steam for 1 minute before adding into noodles. Mix in with the sesame seeds and place in two noodle boxes.

"The god, Tyr, was a hunter and a fighter. He wore a wolfskin as a cloak; the great dead head lolled above his bearded face, hairy, blind and snarling. When Odin hesitated over how to dispose of the Fenris-cub, Tyr said he would take it, and feed it, and tame it perhaps, so it could hunt with him. Fenris growled in his throat and laid back his ears. … Tyr believed he knew the wolf, because he knew the wild. He took him to the woods of Midgard, fed him, and ran with him through the trees. They played together: when the beast was bigger, they would hunt together.
The wolf grew. Like his father (Loki) he was inordinate. His voice deepened and opened out – he had a gamut of growls, chuckling barks, full-throated howls which could be heard, louder and louder, in faraway Asgard. Tyr heard it as the music of the wild. He was the only one. The playful cub became a lolloping youngling the size of a boar, and growing every day. He killed for pleasure, which Tyr put down to juvenile playfulness. He left bleeding hares in the snow, and gutted fawns in the forest. He grew to the size of an ass, a colt, and then a young bull. Midgard resounded to his racket, and his silences were ominous, because when he was silent, he was stalking, and no one – no god – knew what he would take it into his head to stalk next. Tyr brought him flanks of pork, and dead geese, to placate him, to have his confidence. Fenris swallowed, and howled, and killed.
The gods decided to tie up the wolf. … To do this they needed guile, they needed to trick him into co-operating, they needed him to submit.
They made a strong fetter, which was named Leyding, and they went in a gang to the wolf in the woods, and spoke to him pleasantly and said they had brought this plaything for him, to show off his power. They would bind him in it, for fun, and he would break out, and show them the power of his sinews and nerves. The wolf’s hackles rose: he looked at them with cold, calculating eyes, the pupils narrowed to pin shots. He could do that, he said, rolling his wiry muscles under his glistening hair. But why should he? They had been betting, they said, facing the beast at the edge of the clearing, from where he could vanish into the dark wood, or spring tooth and claw upon the gods – they had been betting on how long the breakout would take him. Heimdall, the herald, who guarded the high gate of Asgard, could hear the grass grow on the earth, and the wool springing from the hide of sheep. He could hear the wolf’s blood pounding and pumping, he could hear his pelt expanding. ‘Play with us’, he said to the beast, who took a calculating look at Leyding and lay down on the forest floor and held out his great clawed pads. So they took the fetter, and bound his feet, trussed them together, bound his jaw, avoiding the smell of his hot meaty breath, and left him like an ox made ready for roasting. He made a strangled sound, and shook his head from side to side, and coughed in his constricted throat, and coughed again, and shook himself, swelling all his joints, and the fetter cracked and buckled and fell to the earth. The wolf stood on his feet and glowered at the gods and made a sound between howl and purr, which they knew was laughter. He looked at them, almost expecting further play, but they fell back and returned to Asgard.
They told their smiths they must do better. They made a new chain, with double links, cleverly fused together. Its name was Dromi. They took this to the wolf, who put his head on one side, measuring its strength. He said it was very strong. He said also that he himself had increased in size since he shattered Leyding. He would be a famous beast, said the gods, if he could deal with such an intricate piece of smith craft. He stood and thought, and told them that this chain was indeed stronger. But then, he himself was also stronger. So he allowed them to truss him again. And then he shook himself violently, twisted and strained, kicked with his feet and broke the fetter into fragments which flew this way and that. And he smiled at the gods, his tongue lolling out, and snickered. And went on growing; Heimdall could hear him.
The gods sent Skirnir, a young messenger, down to the dwarves, who lived deep down in the home of the dark-elves. And the dwarves made a supple skein from unthings. There were six, woven together: the sound of a cat’s footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spittle of a bird. The thing was light as air and smooth as silk, a long, delicate ribbon. This they took to the wolf, to whom they said with cunning that this band was tougher than it looked. They tore at it with their own hands, one after the other, and it was unmarked. The wolf was suspicious. He wanted to decline, and feared they would mock him. He told them that he suspected them of bad faith. Of trickery. He would play this game if one of them placed his hand in between his jaws, as a gage of honesty, of their bond of good faith. Then Tyr put his hand on the hot head of the beast, as he would with a nervous hound, and then put his hand quietly into Fenris’s mouth. And the gods wound their floating ribbon round and round flanks and thighs, pads and claws, neck and rump. And the beast shook himself, and twisted himself, and the fetter clung and tightened. This was inevitable. And it was inevitable that he should snap his teeth together, slicing through flesh, skin and bone. And the gods watched the wolf gnash and swallow, and they bound Tyr’s bleeding stump. The wolf glared, and said that if a god’s hand can be eaten, it will be possible, in the time of the wolf, to kill the gods. The gods’ answer to this was to take the cord which was part of Gleipnir – the name of this rope was Gelgia – and thread it through a great stone slab, which also has a name, Giöll. And this they drove into the earth, and attached to another great rock, Thviti. The wolf howled horribly, and gnashed his teeth. So the laughing gods took a great sword and thrust it into his mouth. The hilt is lodged against his lower gums; the point in the upper ones. The great beast writhes in pain, and amongst his howling a river springs from his open jaws. Its name is Hope."

A. S. Byatt - Ragnarok: The End of the Gods

(via buffleheadcabin)

ALDOUS HUXLEY, born 26 July in 1894, wrote some of the most famous and enduring books of the twentieth century. His works include the classic novels Brave New World, Island, Eyeless in Gaza, and The Genius and the Goddess, as well as the nonfiction volumes The Devils of Loudun, The Doors of Perception, and The Perennial Philosophy. 
“Words can be like X-rays if you use them properly — they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced.” ― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World
(via vintageanchorbooks:)

ALDOUS HUXLEY, born 26 July in 1894, wrote some of the most famous and enduring books of the twentieth century. His works include the classic novels Brave New World, IslandEyeless in Gaza, and The Genius and the Goddess, as well as the nonfiction volumes The Devils of Loudun, The Doors of Perception, and The Perennial Philosophy

“Words can be like X-rays if you use them properly — they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced.” 
― Aldous HuxleyBrave New World

(via vintageanchorbooks:)

Minus 8 - Soverato

"Give yourself a break. Just enjoy the day, your normal existence. Just sit. Just be."

Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche

(via christ-consciousness)

(Source: thecalminside)

Scientists believe they have found the first evidence of life arriving to Earth from space, which could completely change our view of biology and evolution The team, from the University of Sheffield, made the discovery after sending a balloon high into the stratosphere. On its return they found organisms that were too large to have originated from Earth. Professor Milton Wainwright, who led the team, said the results could be revolutionary.

(Source: panatmansam)

Tuesday Espresso

Knx - 24hr’s

Beautiful Tattoo

Beautiful Tattoo

Alvar Aalto

Early cantilevered armchair with stepped base, model no. 31.

(via redhousecanada:)

(Source: scandinaviancollectors)