powells:

Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Nobel Prize-winning Colombian novelist, died today. He was 87. http://powells.us/1qQFL4r

poetsorg:

From “The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams:

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

nprradiopictures:

futurejournalismproject:

A Story Told Well: NPR’s Borderland 

NPR recently launched a special series, Borderland, in which Steve Inskeep traveled along the entire 2,428 mile border between the U.S. and Mexico to report on the nuances of immigration and the relationship between the two countries. Here are the radio stories, which are so worth listening to if this is an issue that you’ve had a hard time wrapping your mind around, or not seen fantastic reporting on before. And here is the stunning visual intro to the series, which breaks the piece down into 12 stories complete with moving characters, all the numbers (presented very digestibly) and a lot of context.

Aww thanks! In case anyone missed this last week, do spend some time with the Borderlands project. There’s lots of great images by Kainaz and great storytelling throughout. -Emily

bailarina-raven:

“I don’t want people to like her anymore, almost, that sounds really, really bad.I want people to realize that actually she’s not the same anymore. You can’t root for her forever, because she’s not there to be your favorite character. That’s not what she’s there for. She’s real. People go down bad paths and they make bad decisions, but it’s always justified in their head. I want the audience to differentiate that and not just be like, ‘Oh, it’s Arya, we love her.’ Because actually look at what Arya’s doing. She’s being eaten away from the inside out, and she’s not stopping it.” - about Arya

  1. Camera: Canon EOS-1D Mark IV
  2. Aperture: f/7.1
  3. Exposure: 1/300th
  4. Focal Length: 93mm
easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.
easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.
easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.
easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.
easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.
easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.
easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.
easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.
easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.

easy-bake-coven-bitch:

Today, while hiking in the Appalachian Mountains near Cashiers, North Carolina, I came across a little boardwalk in the middle of the trail. I walked along it, grateful since the ground was wet and spongy. As I followed it I saw something metal glinting in the distance. As I came closer I saw that there was a statue just sitting there in the middle of the brush, warm in the sunlight. I sat there for a few moments, wondering at why someone would place a lovely piece of art in a place so few could enjoy it. What artist would consent to their hard work, long hours, and unique creation being dropped in the middle of a soggy mountainside? I couldn’t imagine that. But then I realized something. Perhaps the artist wanted exactly that. A piece of art only a certain few could afford to enjoy. Like caviar and country clubs, one must be elite and cultured to enjoy the artists work. They must posses the hardiness and audacity to hike the mountain. The curiosity to follow the small boardwalk path. The keen eyesight to notice the statue. And, above all, the cunning to determine the artists intent on placing their work their. I don’t presume to call myself better than any of the countless others who didn’t fulfill these specific credentials; perhaps I am just lucky. Instead I just wish to share the simple story of a girl who went hiking and saw something thought-provoking. So maybe next time you too will take the quiet boardwalk path on the side of a mountain.

staff:

Tumblr Tuesday: Poetry Month

Poetry Bomb
An annual collaboration with Abrams Books. Submit your poetry and they’ll explode it all over Tumblr via this hugely popular blog. 

Academy of American Poets
Eighty years old and 9,000 strong, these are the people that brought you National Poetry Month. April would be useless without them. 

Structure and Style
Amazing poetry, and an amazing place to discuss and critique poetry. Rebecca Hazelwood and Savannah Sipple are your hosts. 

Viper Slang
Fresh work from poet Scherezade Siobhan, who has a Pushcart Prize nomination and a name that is poetry itself.  

Jay Arr Arr
A longtime presence on Tumblr and a friend to every poet, essayist, and novelist on the platform. She even founded a lit journal dedicated to sharing their work. 

GIF via Poetry Bomb

powells:

Happy National Library Week! Go tell your library that you love them!

(Source: blazepress)

baruchobramowitz:

"Stuff Being Thrown at My Head," a photo series by Latvian photographer Kaija Straumanis
baruchobramowitz:

"Stuff Being Thrown at My Head," a photo series by Latvian photographer Kaija Straumanis
baruchobramowitz:

"Stuff Being Thrown at My Head," a photo series by Latvian photographer Kaija Straumanis
baruchobramowitz:

"Stuff Being Thrown at My Head," a photo series by Latvian photographer Kaija Straumanis
baruchobramowitz:

"Stuff Being Thrown at My Head," a photo series by Latvian photographer Kaija Straumanis
baruchobramowitz:

"Stuff Being Thrown at My Head," a photo series by Latvian photographer Kaija Straumanis

baruchobramowitz:

"Stuff Being Thrown at My Head," a photo series by Latvian photographer Kaija Straumanis