thesecretmichan:

Hubble has spotted an ancient galaxy that shouldn’t exist

This galaxy is so large, so fully-formed, astronomers say it shouldn’t exist at all. It’s called a “grand-design” spiral galaxy, and unlike most galaxies of its kind, this one is old. Like, really, really old. According to a new study conducted by researchers using NASA’s Hubble Telescope, it dates back roughly 10.7-billion years — and that makes it the most ancient spiral galaxy we’ve ever discovered.

“The vast majority of old galaxies look like train wrecks,” said UCLA astrophysicist Alice Shapley in a press release. “Our first thought was, why is this one so different, and so beautiful?”

Read more: here

roachpatrol:

Has anyone made a videogame where you’re a princess locked at the top of a tower and have to fight your way down to ground level? Because dang.

Like, think about it: you’re given this nice little room and no objectives at all and when you open the door the guard says ‘stay in there’ so you wait and nothing happens and you open the door again and try and walk out and the guard pushes you back in and says things like ‘you’re our prisoner’ and ‘where are you going, you’re stuck here’ and ‘are you trying to meet your prince? he won’t ever get up THIS high’ and ‘get back inside before I get mad’. But you can pick up a vase of flowers, and you can swing it around. And the thing is all the guards are expecting the hero to be battling his way up, and all this one wimpy little guard at the top is posted to your room for is to push you back into your room, so you can smash him over the head because he’s just not expecting it, and then steal his weapons. And after that you find that the guards are always bigger and stronger than you—and they get bigger and stronger every level down—but you can generally manage to get the first shot in because they’re waiting for the hero, and you’re the princess. And maybe there’s puzzles and stuff too, but you have to solve them backwards, working your way along from end to start, because they’re all set up for the hero. And when you get the bottom and you have the fight of your life because the guards are massed up waiting for the hero, tons of them with awesome weapons and armor and spells and you think it’s the boss battle, but when they’re all dead and the final ground-level door is free to open the credits don’t roll.  And you realize there must be one more fight outside the doors, too, before you’re free, so you equip the best armor and weapons and potions you can find and go outside and you fight this one huge lone badass man on a badass horse in the sunlight. Then he’s finally defeated, and lying in the grass, and his horse is yours, and the credits still aren’t rolling. And you look at his corpse and you see he’s got a locket on, and in that locket is a picture of your face. 

And then you realize that that was the hero. 

And then the credits roll. 

migrated:

change the direction of the train if you concentrate

(Source: dpaf)

▶ in the rain // E. E. Cummings

in the rain-
darkness, the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you

the holy
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
of smiles

your eyes half-
thrush
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss

and
there is the sweet shy pirouette
your hair
and then

your dancesong
soul. rarely-beloved
a single star is
uttered, and i

think
  of you

(Source: blejz)

doctorcaslock:

fleurishes:

kindagamey:

There is only one woman in the world. One woman, with many faces.
- Nikos Kazantzakis

Always always always reblog.

TIME LORD ALERT

(Source: skinned-teen)

lickypickystickyme:

If grandmothers around the world had a rallying cry, it would probably sound something like “You need to eat!”

Photographer Gabriele Galimberti’s grandmother said something similar to him before one of his many globetrotting work trips. To ensure he had at least one good meal, she prepared for him a dish of ravioli before he departed on one of his adventures.  

“In that occasion I said to my grandma ‘You know, Grandma, there are many other grandmas around the world and most of them are really good cooks,” Galimberti wrote via email. “I’m going to meet them and ask them to cook for me so I can show you that you don’t have to be worried for me and the food that I will eat!’ This is the way my project was born!”

The project, “Delicatessen With Love”, took Galimberti to 58 countries where he photographed grandmothers with both the ingredients and finished signature dishes.

Galimberti said many of the subjects for the project were selected serendipitously, picked while he was working on a project about couch surfing that explored the global phenomenon of staying in other people’s houses. Since Galimberti never slept in hotels while working on the project, he was able to come into contact with people who introduced him to grandmothers in the area.

Galimberti acted as photographer and stylist during each shoot with the grandmothers, taking a portrait of both the women and the food they made for him.

From top to bottom: 

Inara Runtule, 68, Kekava, Latvia. Silke €(herring with potatoes and cottage cheese).

Grace Estibero, 82, Mumbai, India. Chicken vindaloo.

Susann Soresen, 81, Homer, Alaska. Moose steak.

Serette Charles, 63, Saint-Jean du Sud, Haiti. Lambi in creole sauce.

The photographer’s grandmother Marisa Batini, 80, Castiglion Fiorentino, Italy. Swiss chard and ricotta Ravioli with meat sauce.

Normita Sambu Arap, 65, Oltepessi (Masaai Mara), Kenya. Mboga and orgali (white corn polenta with vegetables and goat).

Julia Enaigua, 71, La Paz, Bolivia. Queso Humacha (vegetables and fresh cheese soup).

Fifi Makhmer, 62, Cairo, Egypt. Kuoshry (pasta, rice and legumes pie).

Isolina Perez De Vargas, 83, Mendoza, Argentina. Asado criollo (mixed meats barbecue).

Bisrat Melake, 60, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Enjera with curry and vegetables.

[ I was going to post a long rant about some arrogant yoga girl who insist people are ignorant for using olive oil to cook and should not eat fish or drink milk or eat cheese because of all sorts of problematic food issues, instead I said, let me focus on those who celebrate food. If you still want to see the link of the article she was waving on her Facebook, there you go. Privileged white people…ugh]

wryer:

This is my final art A2 piece, responding to the theme ‘Storyteller’.

I decided to tell my own story of self harm/food problems through visual means: a self portrait/collage in which I am trying to show that I have now recovered and moved on from what was a really horrible time in my life. 

I think I took a risk by including torn-out diary pages from my second relapse in 2010, as a lot of people at school (and now the internet) will see this, and after all it is a very personal thing, when I wrote this I never intended it to be read by anyone other than myself. I decided to include the pages because it is my own way of coming to terms with the fact that this is how I once felt, despite being so far from those feelings now. I think it is better for me to face up to these pages, rather than pretending these feelings never existed. The diary in which they were stored was still sat in the box by my bed, and these words were lying stagnant in the air in my room, and I decided it was time to put them to use or at least get them out of my room as they are no longer relevant of helpful to me in any way. It was very satisfying, almost therapeutic, to tear them to pieces, I felt as though I was killing those thoughts so that they could never return. I stared at them in disbelief as I stuck them down - I can’t believe it was my hand that wrote these words, they seem alien to me now. 

The collage coming from my mouth - the story - might not be as aesthetically pleasing or as nicely arranged as I had hoped it would be, but for the first time ever I realised I cared more about the message and meaning in my piece than how it was visually presented or how ‘pretty’ it looked. I hoped that it wouldn’t look too contrived, but I just wanted to portray self injury through small objects and items, where before long butterflies - hope, recovery, redemption, safety - start to emerge, and then take over. I wanted it to represent how I was once so caught up in self hatred and self denial that I thought I would never recover or never even want to recover, but then after much time I did see the light and everything started to fall into place, and I got my life back. Today as I assembled the piece, I realised the last time I had opened a box of razors had been in 2010, and the fact that I have come so far made me feel proud. I included such graphic items and horrible words because they are still a part of me and my story, but I have since risen above that and since realised that I am better than that.

I don’t know if anyone will have read this long description, but if you have done and you are also struggling with self-harm or an eating disorder or know someone who is, know that there is still hope yet. For years I was so low and so hopeless and remember thinking that I would never get better so I might as well take my own life. I am so glad I didn’t. I am admitting all this now because I have transformed and now see all the beauty in life and I am truly, truly happy. When I was 13 I didn’t see how I could ever not want to hurt myself, and at the age of 17 I know that recovery is possible, and recovery is beautiful.  I don’t know exactly how to go about recovering, but I do know there is always the possibility of finding a way out. You just have to find it.

“Storyteller: Recovery” by Kate Powell
facebook

alfiebooty:

pretending-im-cool:

otter-loves-221b:

8bitbowtie:

art-fart:

wideawakeparalyzed:

arpeggia:

Duane Michals - The Bogeyman, 1973 | More posts

GOOD FUCKING GOD THAT IS TERRIFYING

Fuck

“And so the little lamb and his mama live happily ever after,” the girl finished reading her story aloud to the creature beside her. Hopeful orbs of blue glistened as she cocked her head up at him. “Didya like that, Mister Boogey?”

No response from underneath the black coat. She frowned, teetering off her seat ever so slowly before her tiny feet reached the ground.

“Mister Boogey?” she asked again, gripping the corners of the dark trench coat.  When nothing responded, she slowly peeled it open, revealing the coat rack on which he had been perched. Where had he gone?

The little girl shrunk back, upset that her friend had left without a word. She curled up in her chair, clutching the book tightly in case he came back to hear the rest of the tale. Suddenly, a soft wind blew through the empty room, but before she could turn to see what had caused it, she was swept up in darkness.

“Gotcha,” the creature chuckled, cradling her close to him.

The child squeal with laughter most contagious, pleased of his return.

“I thought you left!” She gave a pout, looking up at his shadowy face.

“Why, my dear, I’d never leave you. I am your guardian after all, am I not?” The monster gave her a toothy smile. “And I will always be your Boogeyman.”

Tumblr: the only site that can turn something so terrifying into something utterly adorable

Not sure if I should be terrified or smile um

this is some creeepyass nigga shit

nearlya:

AMY SCHISSEL. CYBERFIELDS, 2 OF 9 PANELS, 2012, ACRYLIC, INK, CHARCOAL, MIXED MEDIA ON PAPER (with detail views)

xharox:

kamdensl:

thestarlighthotel:

Kirsty Mitchell’s late mother Maureen was an English teacher who spent her life inspiring generations of children with imaginative stories and plays. Following Maureen’s death from a brain tumour in 2008, Kirsty channelled her grief into her passion for photography.

She retreated behind the lens of her camera and created Wonderland, an ethereal fantasy world. The photographic series began as a small summer project but grew into an inspirational creative journey.

‘Real life became a difficult place to deal with, and I found myself retreating further into an alternative existence through the portal of my camera,’ said the artist. (read the rest here).

These photos are absolutely stunning.  A perfect way to honor the memory of her mother.  I bet she’d love these photos.

So breath taking!