Kid accidentally steals cup from restaurant
Fighting with my mom
(Source: whatshouldwecallme)
camera obscura - pen / paper
pigfarts-pigfarts-here-i-come:
OH NEIN YOU DIDN’T.
I DID NAZI THAT COMING.
OH HEIL NO
JEW DID NOT JUST MAKE THAT JOKE
THAT IS NOT ALL REICH, OKAY, OH MY GOD
GUYS, THESE JOKES ARE TASTELESS, ANNE FRANKLY I WON’T STAND FOR THEM.
JOKES LIKE THIS REALLY PUT ME OUT OF MEIN KAMPFORT ZONE.
omfg
(Source: humoristics)
(Reblogged from finefools)
(Reblogged from wallytumblz)
eggsie:dirkstridersironicgirlfriend:smuppetdong:legnaangel:scarabeus:onceaspoiler:fluent-in-lesbianism:
Only tumblr can give me feels about math…
^
why.
crying.
I feel like this could accurately describe some ships I’ve shipped.
Fucking math feels
And whats even worse is regular ol’ intersecting lines
They meet once and grow farther apart forever.
That awkward moment when you start shipping lines.
I think it’s time that I step away from the computer…
This shouldn’t make me wibble like it does :/
I’m shipping these lines.. Parallel lines FTW !!
While the Italian artist Matteo Massagrande may have all the skill and technique of an old master, but there is something far less romantic about his work – and for that reason, there is something far more interesting about it too. His series of empty interiors is one which is particularly striking. His blunt depiction of empty apartments is filled with desolation, and the feeling of emptiness that he creates is almost existential.
Capturing these spaces in their own unique moments of deterioration, these private rooms have now reached their end. These spaces, which were once full of life, have now become little more then four walls. Massagrande paintings feel like commemorations to these rooms – not celebrations. His cynical depictions are realized with beautiful subtle colors and a stunning sense of light. Despite his talents, these images are not impressive swan songs to moments past, instead they feel far more like we are sharing the final intimate moments of a room and catching a final haunted glimpse at the fleeting beauty that remains. (Written by Philip Kennedy)
