Neues Altes

On ne s’habitue jamais à l’injure.
blastedheath:

Ethel Spowers (Australian, 1890-1947) Merchants, Port Said, 1932. Colour linocut, 25 x 30.5 cm.

blastedheath:

Ethel Spowers (Australian, 1890-1947) Merchants, Port Said, 1932. Colour linocut, 25 x 30.5 cm.

(via polyeucte-de-melitena)


Francisco Goya, La pradera de San Isidro (detail), 1788

Francisco Goya, La pradera de San Isidro (detail), 1788

(Source: sforzinda)

One senses something else in your music: the idea of a couple of petites banlieusardes coming to Paris to tear it up. 

Yes, with Orties we’re explicitly fighting the sadness of the suburbs, the boredom…

There’s one consolation, as in that prayer I’ve always loved, that I may be forgiven not according to my deserts, but out of mercy.
— Highlight Loc. 1268-69, Anna Karenina

The wolves we dreamed of incessantly as children no longer trouble our sleep. A crack between the curtain and the window no longer summons the demons from deepest imagination. Still, the terror that gave birth to such visions has not gone away. What the child dreams in fear is no mere delusion but a premonition of what awaits her in waking life: the nightmare for which there are no soothing words, the one from which not even our parents know how to wake.

(Source: primaporta)