Profoundly Shallow

♥ 10081 31st May 2012

closing:

Chamonix (by ⚓eugen⚓)

♥ 137 30th May 2012

♥ 687 30th May 2012

wonderfulbritain:

There is a light in the valley by JR’s Gallery on Flickr.

♥ 16 26th May 2012

randomhause:

He’s to sexxy to die! :(

Josh Stewart
AKA: “Will” LaMontagne, Jr

♥ 7 26th May 2012

♥ 11492 26th May 2012

newbloomsbury:

My footfalls echo; echo and fall repeating each other, dancing slow, waltz like with each other. I adjust my tie, blue and red, like the sea and my flushed pallid skin. Wide perishing winds parade down the street, I do not seem to notice; it effects the trees and my hair, pirouetting and trailing, languishing in it’s presence. My suit: herringbone, blotches of grey and white reflected from the sky, keeps my bones warm. I keep step, I keep my eyes on the narrow horizon, it is an escape from the supper, the dinner party hosted down the street; I keep walking, fleeing towards the sea, it’s washed out chorus reverberating across the walls of the suburban houses. It calls to me; not softly, yet not with any regard to timbre or strength of command, only as a lover would, with moderation and a calm subtlety that reaches everywhere, caressing the nooks and crags of the rocks, tumbling off the roof of the church, quieting the hymns and eucharists; blackening the rectors soul, who reaches for Peter the fisherman and turns the page. My step falls, regarding new ground it stumbles, and lands on an assembly of stones, gathered across time, since before the houses were built, sitting, waiting, ignorant of the dinner party, ignorant of the houses and the road and the concrete town; the main thoroughfare and the cities beyond that, the endless urban expanse stretching on, sprawling. There is a downward momentum as my body falls with the curves of the shingle hills towards the end of England, not towards the end of the earth as some may have had you believe; to the edge of Albion however. As far away as possible from England, into the sea, my boots followed quickly. At the edge of land, at the edge of the sea, I had found myself. I had walked here had I not? Out of the garden gate, leaving the dinner party, I had wanted to find myself on the edge of something; here was some unclear boundary between liquid and solid; also of the people behind me, and the unpopulated water, lonely and powerful, beckoning those whose feet drummed out solitude. I questioned the sea, and it asked for me. I had to politely refuse it’s offer; it returned the offer once more, and yet again I said that I had only wanted a intimate conversation, a friendship perhaps; not a love affair. So I sat beside the sea; listening to it’s woe’s, on this day in may, while the sun softly glows.
(Copyright and all that hocus-pocus as well)

♥ 1 26th May 2012

losinghead:

(by Kate Lamb)

♥ 8845 26th October 2011

♥ 1150 26th October 2011

♥ 5676 2nd September 2011