Et juledikt

To tusen år.
Og så igjen en natt.
Om noen timer er den atter feiret.
Og kornet som lå dødelig beleiret
av frost i jorden, kan igjen ta fatt
og gå mot vår.

To tusen år.
Hvor mange tusen netter
ble lys av helios sverdsymboler,
til iskolde og drepende stiletter,
mens kornene i jorden selv blev soler
i telehårda, hjertefrosne sletter
- og gikk mot vår.

Ja, gikk mot vår
alt mens en jordisk vinter
kun la sin isnende og hvite løgn
omkring de første, vinterlige døgn!
Før vinteren for alvor kan ta til,
blir frøet fylt av fin, æterisk ild.
Og går mot vår.

Å, du som bærer stjerner i det høye,
som myndig delte mellem land og hav,
og øst og vest! Som skilte nord og syd!
Du holder oss ved vintertid for øye
det mektigste av bildene du gav,
og sier: Tyd!

Tyd stjerne, korn. Tyd sol og jord!
For alt er billed, alt er metafor!
Tyd syndefall!
Men fremfor alt: Tyd barn og stall!

To tusen år.
Og fødselsnatten, den er her og nu.
Selv er du jomfru, barn og tømmermann,
og hyrde, konge ifra Østerland.
Men vit at også Cæsar, det er du!
Og kong Herodes.

Stallen hvor det godes
såkorn blev lagt ned,
var engang fylt av kongene fra øst.
Og dette syn var tømmermannens trøst.
For Josef så at barnet bragte fred.

Da han gikk ut av stallen for å be,
kom stjerner og tok bolig i hans ord:
"I natt fikk verdenstegnet skje!
Nu har det vendt seg i den mørke jord.
Nu kan det sne..."

Jens Bjørneboe, Samlede dikt (1968)

"I don't want to die at 40."

"Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King are great examples of fantastic nonviolents who died violently. I can never work that out. We're pacifists, but I'm not sure what it means when you are such a pacifist that you get shot. I can never understand that." - John Lennon

Corezone is a ceramic heart-shaped vessel that you can place your thoughts, feelings and emotions into. Write them down on pieces of paper and put them inside. You must then physically break your own heart to free them.

« I’m in a band. I don’t go to church every Sunday. I love punk rock music. Sometimes I use swear words a lot. I respect and admire gay men and women. I’m obsessed with horror films. I know what shame feels like. And guess what old man? Jesus is still my Savior. » - Hayley Williams

Hello Saferide - I Wonder Who Is Like This One

People are like songs, it's true
Some seem dull at first but then they grow on you
Me, I'm like Can't Get You Out of My Head
Annoying at times but I make you wanna dance

And you are the only one I've met who's God Only Knows
I liked you the first time I met you, and it grows and grows and grows

People are like songs, I swear
Some found you as a child and still they're always there
A boy that I knew was Anarchy in the UK
Burned out too quickly but in such a beautiful way

And you are the only one I've met who's God Only Knows
Such a well thought out plan but with harmonies that flow

People are like songs, I've been told
Some claim your ears but never hear a story unfold
Old Radio Gaga or Your High School Friends
Reminds you of things when you were someone else

And God only knows and you paired up as two
As the turn of the seasons you come and go
I can never claim control of either of you
You're too sweet to be just mine alone
And I try to stay humble over the fact that
Sometimes when the time is right you will pass my door
The crescendo comes and

And God Only Knows, and you have the one sad similarity
That every time it's over I want to press play again
But the only difference appears to be
I can force it on one of you and on the other I can't

monsterdrawings on post-it notes

Don Kenn Gallery

halvblanke ark

det at jeg fortsatt husker
rytmen du pleide å puste
og måten du lukka øynene på
da du så på meg
betyr ingenting annet
enn at det å kunne glemme
er en kunst
jeg aldri lærte meg

Her er noe jeg tror på:

når du møter noen og du vil gi dem alt du har og alt du kan finne, så skal du fortelle dem én eller to
ting som ikke er sant, sånn når du ei gang angrer på håret du klippa og blodet du tappa på
reagensrør, så kan du trøste deg med at det den andre har, ikke er deg, ikke engang er noen du har
vært, bare en person du lagde for dem, ga til dem, og aldri tenkte på igjen.

(hvis Imma lurer på hvor hun har lest dette før)

Get back in your book

Se resten her.

Let's talk about Shakespeare!

"THIS PROBABLY NEEDS SOME EXPLANATION.

~Bailiwick is in grad school, and she made the mistake of leaving one of her syllabuses (syllabi?) out where I could get it. I determined that her syllabus was BORING, and decided to liven it up with some lumpkitties discussing SHAKESPEARE.

This is pretty much my magnum opus, you guys."

Amy MacDonald - A wish for something more

Oh the sun is shining far too bright
For it to still be night
Oh the air feels so cold
So cold and old
How can it be light
Oh let's take a walk outside
See the world through each other's eyes
I wish I was your only one
I think you're beautiful but your hair is a mess
And your shoes are untied, but that's what I love best

And I, I wish I was the one
You lonely, lonely son
And you looked at me that way
I wish for long lingering glances
Fairytale romances
Every single day
And you look at me and say
I'm your best friend every day
But I wish for something, wish for something more
Oh, I love you like a friend but let's not pretend
How I wish for something, wish for something more

Oh the grass is so green
But I can't see anything, past your eyes
I'm fixated on your smile
Your cherry lips make life worthwhile
I'm thinking these things
What I'm trying to say is
Life gets in my way
Every single day

And I, I wish I was the one
You lonely, lonely son
And you looked at me that way
I wish for long lingering glances
Fairytale romances
Every single day
And you look at me and say
I'm your best friend every day
But I wish for something, wish for something more
Oh, I love you like a friend but let's not pretend
How I wish for something, wish for something more

Now the sun is fading and the rain is coming down
And I'm looking at your face but your looking at the ground
I see diamonds in your dreams I see pearls around your neck
I see everything that's beautiful, everything that's beautiful

I wish I was the one
You lonely, lonely son
And you looked at me that way
I wish for long lingering glances
Fairytale romances
Every single day
And you look at me and say
I'm your best friend every day
But I wish for something, wish for something more
Oh, I love you like a friend but let's not pretend
How I wish for something, wish for something more

Dokketeater Pattedyrpuls

I
Eg har ikkje noko å gå med. I skåpet heng flaggermusvengjer, pølseskinnstights, renneløkkjetoppar og sekstimetersundertøy. Ingenting passar. Eg dreg strømpebuksa nesten over hovudet og trekk magen inn til eg ser ut som ein greyhound. Greyhounden er ei mynde, og ofte brukt i hundeveddelaup. Dei kan finne på å spurte til hundehjarta eksploderer og dei fell tungt mot bakken. Eg ser inn i mine eigne hundeauge i spegelen og tenkjer at noko slikt kunne eg også ha gjort. Spurta på høghæla skor inn i natta og kollapsa framfor nattbussen.


II
Regnet høljar ned over den haustmørke byen. Det er fredagskveld og gatene er i ferd med å fyllest. Eg passerer klynger av høgrøysta kvinner og menn som ler med vidopne munnar. Over alt kring meg ser eg raude lepper, svarte gap, grådige svelg. Sigarettglør dansar som eldfluger i folkehavet. Byen er levande. Ein stor, varm kropp som pustar langsamt inn og ut. Inn og ut, natt og nikotin. Menneska skyt rygg mot regnet og ser i asfalten.


III
Eg trengjer meg gjennom ein vegg av musikk og samtaler og kjem inn i ei lita hybelstove. Kjende og ukjende sit strøydd kringom i rommet, og det er trongt om plassen. Vorspielvarmen er klam og trong.

Eg set meg på kanten av ein losliten sofa og ristar regnvatnet ut or håret. Det dryp frå andletet mitt og ned på golvteppet. Eg helser på somme og stiller meg avventande til andre. Jentene har så ettersitjande antrekk at dei liknar stappa pølser. Dei har måla på seg nattandleta sine, med glitrande beinstrukturar og junglar av augnevipper. Gutane drikk som vikingar. Augnelokka mine er sceneteppe for omverda og dokketeateret.


IV
Eg lest som ingenting, men har deg stadig i sidesynet. Du sit breibeint i ein stol på andre sida av rommet. Mellom to hjarteslag møter eg blikket ditt, som frå ein galakse langt borte. Eg smiler. Du smiler ikkje.


V
Timane renn unna som sand, støynivået aukar og alle vert betre venner. Eg fører samtaler til høgre og venstre. Lars har pene hender, stripete genser og snakkar som om han kunne bli stum kvar augneblink. Gina har frekner, glipe mellom framtennene og meiner Coldplay er Gud si gåve til menneska. Jonathan har ei ørn tatovert på aksla og ein tiger i andletet, men seier ingenting som er verd å hugse. Eg nikkar med hovudet i takt med musikken som stangar mot trommehinnene. Vi er alle samde om at kvelden er god så langt, og ber hjarta våre på skjorteerma for å få plass til meir øl.


VI
Lyset på badet er kvitt og hardt. Eg set meg med ryggen mot døra og slepp taket. Den monotone bakgrunsstøyen frå stova fylgjer meg inn i mitt eige hovud. Eg freistar å finne deg i mørkret der inne, hugse den fyrste gongen eg trefte deg, men det nyttar ikkje. Det er som om du alltid har vore der: I byen, på skulen, i muskelen bakom brystbeinet. Du har lært meg å stele, eg har prøvd å lære deg at Doors var og er verdas kulaste band. Vi leikar gøyme og leite, og så langt har du vore suveren. Du er høgreist og full av gøymestader.

Rommet går rundt og rundt og rundt. Eg klamrar meg til baderomsflisene og prøver å nyte det, prøver å forstå kvifor vi lever for denne tilstanden. Desse endelause tåkenettene som ein aldri hugsar noko av, anna enn bråk og kaos. Ein stad i minnet mitt ler du.

Ein, to, tre, fire, fem, seks, sju, åtte, ni, ti.
Eg reiser meg.


VII
Lars ler hysterisk. Gina halvsøv. Jonathan har teke av seg T-skjorta. Du har gøymt deg inni hettejakka, vinflaska di er tom. Inn i mellom blæs du røykringar i mi retning, men dei løyser seg opp lenge før dei når meg.


VIII
Fuglebrystet ditt hevar og senkar seg med bevisstlaus ro. Du er behageleg å sjå på når du søv, likevel torer eg ikkje å leggje meg nærare. Eg studerer andletet ditt på avstand, trekka som vanlegvis er gøymde inni hetta. Du er ikkje spesielt vakker dersom ein ser etter. Nasen er skeiv og munnvikane vender nedover. Eg lurer på om du gøymer deg også i svevne.

Du kjem ikkje til å hugse noko av dette. Kroppen din hugsar berre dersom knoklar knekk eller det er tilstrekkjeleg blod og blåmerke. For meg er det annleis. Kvar tåkenatt saman med deg vert ein ny årring.

Eg kjem til å tenkje på flystyrten i Andesfjella, der dei forkomne til sist måtte ete kvarandre for å overleve, og det slår meg at ingne av oss hadde nølt med å gjere det same. På ein måte er vi allereie i gong. Eg kan ikkje bestemme meg for kva som manglar, men du har teke noko som er mitt. Eit ekko slår mellom tomme veggjer i kroppen min.


IX
Utanfor vindauget har det byrja å lysne. Det går mot dag, byen vil snart ta på seg eit anna andlet. Du pustar i langsame drag utan å vite at eg høyrer på, og frå tid til annan snur du uroleg på deg. Eg veit at eg må gå før du vaknar. Slik er reglane for gøyme og leite. Kva som skjer med regelbrytarar har ingen sagt noko om.

På vegen ut møter eg augo mine i ein herpa spegel på veggen. Dei er pattedyrblanke og tause. Eg veit at dei høghæla skorne mine ligg ved ytterdøra, og tanken får munnhola til å smake jern.

Ein, to tre, start.

Kimya Dawson - So Nice So Smart

I was quiet as a mouse
when i snuck into your house
and took roofies with your spouse
in a nit and out a louse
and lice are lousy all the time
they suck your blood drink your wine
say shut up and quit your crying
give it time and you'll be fine

you're so nice and you're so smart
you're such a good friend i have to break your heart
I'll tell you that i love you then I'll tear your world apart
just pretend i didn't tear your world apart

i like boys with strong convictions
and convicts with perfect diction
underdogs with good intentions
amputees with stamp collections
plywood skinboards ride the ocean
salty noses suntan lotion
always seriously joking
and rambunctiously soft-spoken
i like boys that like their mothers
and i have a thing for brothers
but they always wait til we're under the covers
to say i'm sure glad we're not lovers

you're so nice and you're so smart
you're such a good friend i have to break your heart
I'll tell you that i love you then I'll tear your world apart
just pretend i didn't tear your world apart

i like my new bunnysuit
i like my new bunnysuit
i like my new bunnysuit
when i wear it i feel cute

The colour of our planet from far, far away

The most human colour

Scouting For Girls - This Ain't A Lovesong

Every night I remember that evening
The way you looked when you said you were leaving
The way you cried as you turned to walk away
The cruel words and the false accusations
The mean looks and the same old frustrations
I never thought that we’d throw it all away
But we threw it all away.

And I’m a little bit lost without you
And I’m a bloody big mess inside
And I’m a little bit lost without you
This ain’t a love song this is goodbye
This ain’t a love song this is goodbye

I’ve been lost, I've been out, I’ve been losing
I’ve been tired, I’m all hurt and confusion
I’ve been mad, I’m the kind of man that I’m not
I’m going down, I’ll be coming back fighting
I may be scared and a little bit frightened
But I’ll be back, I’ll be coming back to life
I’ll be coming back to life

And I’m a little bit lost without you
And I’m a bloody big mess inside
And I’m a little bit lost without you
This ain’t a love song this is goodbye
This ain’t a love song this is goodbye

And you can try
And you can try but you’ll never keep me down
And you can try
And you can try but you’ll never keep me down

And I’m a little bit lost without you
And I’m a bloody big mess inside
And I'm a little bit lost without you
This ain’t a love song this is goodbye

It’s alright 'cause you can try but you’ll never keep me down
It’s alright I may be lost but you’ll never keep me down
You can try you can try but you’ll never keep me down
You can try I know i’m lost but I’m waiting to be found
you’ll never keep me down
you’ll never keep me down
never keep me down

If it kills me

Hurricane

Send out the morning birds
To sing of the damage
Now that the calm's returned
I know I can't manage

You're standing in my doorway
Though he's asleep in my bed
The steady murmur
Always in my head

You're the finest thing that I've done
The hurricane I'll never outrun
I could wait around for the dust to still
But I don't believe that it ever will

And since the roof fell in
I'll lean on what matters
Caught in the slightest wind
Everything else unravels

You're standing in my doorway
Seven cities ago
The day's erasing
But you come back too slow

You're the finest thing that I've done
The hurricane I'll never outrun
I could wait around for the dust to still
But I don't believe that it ever will

You're the finest thing that I've done
The hurricane I'll never outrun
I could wait around for the dust to still
But I don't believe that it ever will

But I don't believe that it ever will

(The Hush Sound)

Without

Without you, the ground thaws
the rain falls
the grass grows

Without you, the seeds root
the flowers bloom
the children play

The stars gleam
the poets dream
the eagles fly
without you

The Earth turns
the sun burns
but I die, without you

Without you, the breeze warms
the girl smiles
the cloud moves

Without you, the tides change
the boys run
the oceans crash

The crowds roar
the days soar
the babies cry
without you

The moon glows
the river flows
but I die without you

The world revives
colors renew
but I know blue
only blue
lonely blue
willingly blue
Without you

Without you, the hand gropes
the ear hears
the pulse beats

Without you, the eyes gaze
the legs walk
the lungs breathe

The mind churns
the heart yearns
the tears dry without you

Life goes on
but I'm gone
'cause I die, without you
without you
without you
without you...

A Fine Frenzy - Almost Lover

Your fingertips across my skin
The palm trees swaying in the wind, images
You sang me Spanish lullabies
The sweetest sadness in your eyes, clever trick

Well, I'd never want to see you unhappy
I thought you'd want the same for me

Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should've known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

We walked along a crowded street
You took my hand and danced with me in the shade
And when you left you kissed my lips
You told me you would never ever forget these images, no

Well, I?d never want to see you unhappy
I thought you?d want the same for me

Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should've known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

I cannot go to the ocean
I cannot try the streets at night
I cannot wake up in the morning
Without you on my mind

So you're gone and I'm haunted
And I bet you are just fine
Did I make it that easy to walk
Right in and out of my life?

Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Why can't you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should've known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

Kaffe

Swim with me into your blackest eyes

I got wiring loose inside my head
I got books that I never, ever read
I got secrets in my garden shed
I got a scar where all my urges bled
I got people underneath my bed
I got a place where all my dreams are dead

Porcupine Tree - Blackest Eyes

Hvis jeg i mot all formodning skulle skaffet meg en hund, skulle den sett sånn ut:

(klikk på bildet for å lese artikkelen)

Like you

I've been to hell
and it looked just like heaven,
I made a friend and I felt forgiven,
like you, and everyone else

I am ashamed but, I’m just human,
With oceans of dreams,
and seas of confusion
Like you, and everyone else

Holding my breath when I just want to scream,
hiding the face I don’t want you to see,
making a mess of myself trying to be
like you, and everyone else

They put me away, told me I’m crazy,
I don't belong but, maybe they'll save me,
Talked to the pain, it's been here forever,
the drugs make me sane, but they don't make me better

Holding my breath when I just want to scream,
hiding the face I don’t want you to see,
making a mess of myself trying to be
like you, like you

Losing my faith when I say I believe,
Looking at you for the answers I need,
walking away from myself, trying to be
like you, and everyone else
Everyone else

Talked to me, talked to me, talked to me,
till this is over
Talked to me, talked to me, talked to me
and I am worth fighting for

Holding my breath when I just want to scream,
hiding the face I don’t want you to see,
making a mess of myself trying to be
like you, like you

Losing my faith when I say I believe,
Looking at you for the answers I need,
Walking away from myself, trying to be
like you, and everyone else.



Walk in the rain, let it fall on my face.
There’s a shadow of doubt but a sky full of grace,
I’m not like you, and everyone else..

Beth Hart (2010)

Fifty People, One Question: Brooklyn from Fifty People, One Question on Vimeo.

it is not enough

it is not enough just to
miss you. i have to learn
how to walk again; how to
live without meat and
kissing, how to sleep
shaped like a balled up
fist. it is not enough
just to miss you. i have
to adopt twins in
Africa, name them Lost
and Weird, forget to
feed them. i have to
go to every pet store
in America and rescue
all the seahorses. i have
to tattoo D A R K B I R D
inside my lip and stand
in children's playgrounds
like a broken arm, creaking. it
is not enough just to miss
you. it has to hurt. i
have to write poems
that last forever, interpret
dreams about buildings
burning down, flies who
leave their partners for
sad New York waitresses. i
have to work on my
posture. shave my head, wear
white dresses. i have to
be a chaffinch when i curse
into my fingers. it is not
enough to just miss you. i
have to be a crazy
crocus-woman; my lovely
hand curled close around
your heart, a bud sealed
tightly, tightly, tightly...

kilde

Venninna mi jobber med et kunstprosjekt, kalt dagens outfit, hvor hun lar seg inspirere av bloggsjangeren, skriver dikt, lager bilder og lignende. Sjekk det ut da vel^^

Ein fin liten blome

Ein fin liten blome i skogen eg ser,
i granskogen diger og dryg,
og vent mellom mose og lyng han seg ter.
Han står der så liten og blyg.

Sei, ottast du ikkje i skogen stå gøymd
der skuggane tyngja deg må?
Å nei, for av Herren eg aldri vert gløymd,
til ringaste blom vil han sjå.

Men ynskjer du ikkje i prydhagen stå,
der folk kunne skoda på deg?
Å nei, eg trivst best mellom ringe og små,
eg føddest til skogblome, eg.

Ein dag vil den stormande vinter deg nå,
då vert det vel dødsdagen din.
Då kviler eg lunt og har snøkåpa på,
til vårsola kysser mitt kinn.

Eit bod frå min Herre du blome meg ber:
om einsleg eg vert på min veg,
så veit eg at Herren vil vera meg nær,
Gud Fader, han vernar òg meg.

Om enn eg er liten, har Herren meg kjær,
med honom eg kjenner meg sæl.
Kvar morgon meg bøna til himmelen ber,
med bøna eg sovnar kvar kveld.

Ein kledning eg fekk av min Frelsarmann kjær,
i blodet hans reinsa den er.
Den høver for himlen, der gullgater er,
den høver for vandringa her.

Som blomen om vinteren visnar eg av,
men gled meg, for då står eg brud.
Lat lekamen kvila med fred i si grav,
mi sjel, ho er heime hos Gud!

Ja, glad skal eg vakna hos Jesus eingong
i morgonen æveleg klår,
og blanda med heilage englar min song
i himlen, dit døden ei når!

Johan Alfred Blomberg 1890

Å være sammen er å være tilstrekkelig langt borte fra alt annet.
Gunnar Ardelius (2006) Jag behöver dig mer än jag älskar dig och jag älskar dig så himla mycket

Første gangen jeg hørte denne sangen, lo jeg faktisk høyt. Det er riktignok ikke en original Beatlessang, men jeg bare elsker stemmen til Ringo.

The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of flying

There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying.
The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and
miss.
Pick a nice day, it suggests, and try it.
The first part is easy.
All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with
all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it's going to hurt.
That is, it's going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground.
Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying
properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard.
Clearly, it is this second part, the missing, which presents the
difficulties.
One problem is that you have to miss the ground accidentally. It's no
good to deliberately intend to miss the ground because you won't. You
have to have your attention suddenly distracted by something else when
you're halfway there, so that you are no longer thinking about falling, or
about the ground, or about how much it's going to hurt if you fail to miss
it.
It is notoriously difficult to prise your attention away from these
three things during the split second you have at your disposal. Hence most
people's failure, and their eventual disillusionment with this exhilarating
and spectacular sport.
If, however, you are lucky enough to have your attention momentarily
distracted at the crucial moment by, say, a gorgeous pair of legs (tentacles,
pseudopodia, according to phyllum and/or personal inclination) or a bomb
going off in your vicinity, or by suddenly spotting an extremely rare species
of beetle crawling along a nearby twig, then in your astonishment you will
miss the ground completely and remain bobbing just a few inches above it in
what might seem to be a slightly foolish manner.
This is a moment for superb and delicate concentration.
Bob and float, float and bob.
Ignore all consideration of your own weight and simply let yourself
waft higher.
Do not listen to what anybody says to you at this point because they are
unlikely to say anything helpful.
They are most likely to say something along the lines of, "Good Heavens,
you can't possibly be flying!"
It is vitally important not to believe them or they will suddenly be right.
Waft higher and higher.
Try a few swoops, gentle ones at first, then drift above the treetops
breathing regularly.
DO NOT WAVE AT ANYBODY.
When you have done this a few times you will find the moment of
distraction rapidly becomes easier and easier to achieve.
You will then learn all sorts of things about how to control your flight,
your speed, your manoeuvrability, and the trick usually lies in not thinking
too hard about whatever you want to do, but just allowing it to happen as if
it was going to anyway.
You will also learn about how to land properly, which is something you
will almost certainly cock up, and cock up badly, on your first attempt.
There are private flying clubs you can join which help you achieve the
all-important moment of distraction. They hire people with suprising bodies
or opinions to leap out from behind bushes and exhibit and/or explain them
at the critical moments. Few genuine hitch-hikers will be able to afford to
join these clubs, but some may be able to get temporary employment at them.

Emberwaves på deviantart

Eller Cave på bua.







Her finner du henne.

Jeg er ikke så veldig moteinteressert, så jeg følger The Sartorialist mest på grunn av at folka han fotograferer er så fine.Sorry, but being "fashion forward" seems so unimportant when you can look like this.

Alle bildene er linket til innlegga sine

På jorden et sted

Tro ikke frosten som senker en fred
av sne i ditt hår
alltid er det på jorden et sted
tidlig vår

tro ikke mørket når lyset går ned
i skumringens fang
alltid er det på jorden et sted
soloppgang

André Bjerke

Lost things

Brighton

Etter York, sannsynligvis den peneste byen i England. Elsker den gamle piren.

Mer fra inspire me now

Fersk sorg har skarpe kanter, den kapper over nervetråder, kobler ut virkeligheten -
Christopher Moore (2006) A dirty job

(c) Hayley, Loli-rot

I disse OL-tider

OH JOHNNY WEIR. You are the Lady Gaga of figure-skating: dramatic; quite talented; prone to wearing crazy shit and saying provocative things; possibly inspired by Grace Jones; and very very likely to perform "Poker Face".

Denne fikk meg faktisk til å grine første gang jeg så den.



(Kan du tro det ikke finnes et eneste youtubeklipp med denne scenen fra Love Actually som det er mulig å embedde? En av mine favorittscener fra filmen, wouldn't mind om noen gjorde noe sånt i mitt bryllup)

A thing of heart-stopping beauty

Åh, jeg vet ikke hvor jeg skal gjøre av meg...

Så utrolig søtt! ♥

The Sartorialist
"I started The Sartorialist simply to share photos of people that I saw on the streets of New York that I thought looked great."