This Kid Just Died. What He Left Behind Is Wondtacular. Zach Sobiech, at the age of 14, found out he had a rare form of terminal cancer. So he became a rock star, and millions of people got to see his music before he passed away on May 20, 2013. This is his beautiful story.
From Adam, our curator: You never know what to expect until you lose someone dear to your heart this way. I lost my dad to pancreatic cancer far too early. If you wouldn’t mind sharing this so more people hear Zach’s story, I’d love it. His family has requested that anyone who is interested in helping change the fate for future children like Zach donate to the research fund set up on his behalf.
Please take just 22 minutes out of your day to watch this truly incredible and inspirational story.
Im so thoroughly over normalizing unhealthy relationships, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, and turning humyns into possessions. No, they are not YOURS. No, they do not Belong to you. Its not okay to put your hands on a partner regardless of what actions followed that point or led to that point….
owls // everyone is my friend
may we all make it home safely.
You are flowers in my stomach.
Cutting me open nightly, blooming through the cracks of the ribs.
I only want to be the sun for you.
Elke River (via wurmwood)
Virginia-based Korean artist Bohyun Yoon’s suspended installation, Unity, takes fragmented pieces of dolls, hangs them in midair, and gives them suggestive shadow forms. It’s a genius plan that has been executed perfectly. The body parts alone create a slightly disturbing environment, but the shadows transform the piece into something much more provocative and meaningful.
Don’t ask me about his lips. The way they ruby and burn. Stretch full over white teeth. Soft with desire, taut like a drum. I want him to make music of me.
Don’t ask me about his hands. The way they are scarred with stories he won’t tell. How they slide thick down his legs as I stare. Mouth cotton; eyes hungry.
Don’t ask me about my hunger. The way my stomach drops tight when he looks at me. The way my palms itch for his bones. His tongue. Don’t ask me about my fear. The way he comes to me.
How I open my mouth to say “Yes” and it comes out “I’m sorry.”
His Lips, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)