Norepi

sixpenceee:

MOSES BRIDGE, NETHERLANDS

It was originally built in the early 1700’s to protect the Netherlands from invasions. It is constructed out of Accoya wood, a waterproof wood. The designers assured that flooding will not be a problem because the height of the water is controlled an adjustable dam. The dam also includes a pump in case the water overflows. 

SOURCE

penis-hilton:

RIP

penis-hilton:

me on my way to church

Party like Gatsby #gh #gillyhicks #party #gatsby

Party like Gatsby #gh #gillyhicks #party #gatsby

Did you tell him? - By Eleanor Mcevoy

Is his hair still as long?
Are his eyes still as blue?
Can his face still conceal
Every clue to his mood?
Does his brow still display
Every beat of his heart?
Did he ask after me?
Did you send my regards?
Or did you tell him that Ive died
In every way that matters?
And did you tell him how I cry
With every day that passes?
That I am raw and bruised and torn
That I cant function anymore
Well, did you tell him that?
Well, Id tell him myself
But I dont have the nerve
And I know to my shame
This is all I deserve
But I hope for my sake
You were not indiscreet
If he asked how I was
Hope you lied through your teeth
Or did you tell him that Ive died
In every way that matters?
And did you tell him how I cry
With every day that passes?
That I am raw and bruised and torn
That I cant function anymore
Well, did you tell him that?
And if he didnt want to know
Oh, my friend, dont tell me that
Did you never speak my name?
Did he never even ask?
Or did you tell him that Ive died
In every way that matters?
And did you tell him how I cry
With every day that passes?
That I am raw and bruised and torn
That I cant function anymore
Well, did you tell him? Did you tell him?
Did you tell him?
Did you tell him that Ive died?
Did you tell him how I cry?
Did you tell him? Did you tell him?
Did you tell him?

fuckyeah1990s:

hardcore gaming

pinmeupagainstthesky:

These, for me, are the two most depressing paintings in western history. They were painted by post-impressionist Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec, a man who, due to inbreeding, was born with a genetic disorder that prevented his legs from growing after they were broken. After being so thoroughly mocked for is appearance, he became an alcoholic, which is what eventually caused his institutionalization and death. His only known romantic relations were with prostitutes.

And then he paints something like this which is so beautiful and tender and sentimental. It seems like the couple in bed really loves each other—cares about each other. Wakes up happy to look at each other. And I see that love and passion and I wonder how lonely he must have been. I wonder how he could paint something like this without it breaking his heart. 

Maybe they say artists should create what they know, not because its unbelievable when they extend themselves beyond their experiences, but because when they pull it off with such elegance, it’s so damn unbearable to look at. I hate thinking of Lautrec, wondering about the lovers he created and knowing it was beyond his experience. Creating something that he knows is beautiful and knows he’ll never really understand.