there is to me about this place a smell of rot, the smell of rot that ripe fruit makes. nowhere, ever, have the hideous mechanics of birth and copulation and death - those monstrous upheavals of life that the greeks call miasma, defilement - been so brutal or been painted up to look so pretty; have so many people put so much faith in lies and mutability and death death death.


ph. Monet Lucki 

View of Rome and St. Peter’s dome from the top of the Spanish Steps.

(Seriously, go to the steps EARLY. Like, before the sun comes up. There will be no one there.)

Piazza di Spagna, Rome


europeans on tumblr: “wë dô nöt håvë räcism iń êürœpë! amërïcå iš têrriblë!”


Feminist Graffiti from the 1970s [x]

but how did i even manage to fuck my hand up this bad

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