reverie, altruism & nostalgia.

reverie, altruism & nostalgia.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #369 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text Below For Tired Eyes:
Can you see these bones and imagine them as the boardsthat held this old house together? Can you lookclosely through these eyes and see the glass thatused to hold out the cold? The curtains, tatteredbut still dancing in the breeze that leaks through?Can you make out the outline of your own hand in the darknessinside me? I wait for you to turn on the lightand paint the shadows out of these corners. There are times I swear if I shut tight my doorsand lock the windows against the silence, I can justbarely make out the sound of your footstepsor the echo of your laughter down my hallways.Have you felt me wonder about what purpose a lock wouldserve if the handles are broken? What use is a doorif there aren’t feet to walk through it?I am empty and my foundation is sighing with the weightof all the life being lived outside my walls. StillI stand and wait. The heat stays on and the bedremains ready and I will always smell like home.No matter how long you are away, no matter whatyou see and what other floors your bare feet findthemselves walking across, no matter how many momentsare spent shaking against the winds and counting theraindrops on my rooftop, no matter how the plants thatlive between these walls wither and stretch for the sunlightthat forgets to come, I will always be here, as I’vealways been here. You do not need to curl your hand intoa fist and you will never need to knock. I will let thewind blow through me and pull the door wide openin reverence to your presence on my porch again. Bones as boards and whispers as blood and if thesewalls could talk they wouldn’t whisper at all, they’d screamand weep and laugh and throw air out of their lungslike they’ve no taste for it at all. They’d tellstories, our stories and they’d tell them to anyoneand no one and the ghosts that float by outsidein the stillness before morning officially begins.Do you miss me, these humble bones and rickety rooftops,this sighing foundation and leaf covered grass? Know thatI miss you and scared to realize just how much a homebecomes a house when you’re not sleeping inside it.I am here and waiting because the very opposite is evenmore abundantly true.I am an empty house, and I am waiting for youto come back home.-Tyler Knott Gregson-

aseaofquotes:

— Pablo Neruda

Mar
23

To This Day | Shane Koyczan

creatingaquietmind:

JL writing

somesnowonthedash:

tressainte:

triumphantskies:

glukauf:

When a magnitude 6.8 earthquake shook Olympia, Wash., in 2001, shopowner Jason Ward discovered that a sand-tracing pendulum had recorded the vibrations in the image above.
Seismologists say that the “flower” at the center reflects the higher-frequency waves that arrived first; the outer, larger-amplitude oscillations record the lower-frequency waves that arrived later.
“You never think about an earthquake as being artistic — it’s violent and destructive,” Norman MacLeod, president of Gaelic Wolf Consulting in Port Townsend, told ABC News. “But in the middle of all that chaos, this fine, delicate artwork was created.”

SCIENCE ART

DUDE