strangers bearing champange
This is a tumblelog -- like a blog but with short-form, mixed-media posts of the things I like. Scroll down a bit to start browsing.We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we
started and know the place for the first time.
FOUND by Terry in Nice, France, inside a 1974 folio edition of “The Stranger” by Albert Camus, bought for 50 centimes at a used book store. The quality is the same as photos I took and developed in my home darkroom when I was in high school. I hope the person will recognize himself and write to explain what he’s doing inside one of Camus’ novels in Nice in 2006. I’m imagining him as one of the bohemian American youth who floated aimlessly around Europe in the late 1960s. (via FOUND Magazine | The Stranger)
!!!! What! This is so much more exciting to me than anything a store might have one sale. Found more details about what exactly will be offered here: http://freefrombroke.com/2009/11/ing-direct-black-friday-cyber-monday.html
longlivethequeen:thingsgohazy:suicideunderground:themoonandthewolf: dreamslikewaterfalls: (via saaaaamm)
Imported from Last.fm Tumblr by JoeLaz
“I was ten when my mother died. Many years later, I was sitting at the dinner table with a good friend and his wife. His mother had just died; her parents were both still alive.
He was telling me how devastated he felt, while his wife apparently felt that he should be over it already, or something. I turned to her to try to explain how difficult it is to lose a parent; she parried that by saying, “Oh, but you were only ten years old when your mother died, that’s different.” My response was that no matter how long you’ve technically been an adult, everyone’s ten years old when their mother dies.
.. I think that there’s just something so profound about losing an attachment that important that it at least initially renders one sort of primally wounded no matter what one’s age.”
