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night-birds:

Hans Arnold - Spöket på Gripsholm
magictransistor:

Max Ernst
earthenpixie:

huge lotus leaves
differnces:

 
transistoradio:

Richard Diebenkorn (1922-1993), Berkeley #22 (1954), oil on canvas. Via Gwen Photoblog.

The myth of progress is founded on the myth of nature. The first tells us that we are destined for greatness; the second tells us that greatness is cost-free. Each is intimately bound up with the other. Both tell us that we are apart from the world; that we began grunting in the primeval swamps, as a humble part of something called ‘nature’, which we have now triumphantly subdued. The very fact that we have a word for ‘nature’ is evidence that we do not regard ourselves as part of it. Indeed, our separation from it is a myth integral to the triumph of our civilisation. We are, we tell ourselves, the only species ever to have attacked nature and won. In this, our unique glory is contained.

Outside the citadels of self-congratulation, lone voices have cried out against this infantile version of the human story for centuries, but it is only in the last few decades that its inaccuracy has become laughably apparent. We are the first generations to grow up surrounded by evidence that our attempt to separate ourselves from ‘nature’ has been a grim failure, proof not of our genius but our hubris. The attempt to sever the hand from the body has endangered the ‘progress’ we hold so dear, and it has endangered much of ‘nature’ too. The resulting upheaval underlies the crisis we now face.

Dark Mountain (via lumpenfag)

(via bedangeroustogether)

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I’m suddenly addicted to honey

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The ghost in my room

iamthecosmos said: FYL SMH

fuck my life?

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