Durbar Square.
Kathmandu, Nepal
…I’ve met a crossroad: deciding when to enlist into the Peace Corp and just where exactly am I hoping to fly away to.
I had a professor in anthropology that turned my heart warm for Kathmandu and the landscape surrounding it. But I’m still feeling lead towards Africa.
What in the hell to do?
Stealing internet air from Mickey D’s.
Beginning a new semester—and this year happens to be the beginning of my last—always has me feeling anxious and a little uncertain about my control in steering the year in the direction I’m imagining it going. Like a deer wondering how it expects to operate a five speed Honda with hooves. Not that I’m declaring deer of having the capacity to drive a stick shift through a busy street, but a certain bit of that anxiety must be handed kindly over to forces of fate and her lovely groove. To be honest, if my eyes were ever set on the sight of a deer operating a car, I’d have to commend him/her, perhaps strangely shake hand to hoof, or offer a drink at the nearest watering hole. (But, naturally, I would be driving.)
Aside from being led astray with this image of deer driving a Civic, I suppose this post is a Cheers to new beginnings, getting feet wet and just—if you allow a cliche—going with the flow and letting things happen.
Next week is a mysterious chauffeur, but I’m ready to buckle up, light a cigarette and follow the road out of town.
Hey again, Tumblr world.
(via frau-jackie)
Her house is empty and her heart is old,
And filled with shades and echoes that deceive
No one save her, for still she tries to weave
With blind bent fingers, nets that cannot hold.
Once all men’s arms rose up to her, ‘tis told,
And hovered like white birds for her caress:
A crown she could have had to bind each tress
Of hair, and her sweet arms the Witches’ Gold.
Her mirrors know her witnesses, for there
She rose in dreams from other dreams that lent
Her softness as she stood, crowned with soft hair.
And with his bound heart and his young eyes bent
And blind, he feels her presence like shed scent,
Holding him body and life within its snare.William Faulkner
(Source: , via libraryland)
Metaphorical school year.
The semester is ending, and I’m undressing myself from that academic diving bell. A job has never seemed so enticing.
Matt Maher
(via orgasmicfood)
The aftermath of the espresso beans.
Today’s newest flavor. This seasonal blend will satiate all those caffeine junkies in the world.
