ghostcrash

theremina:

My tiny badass octagenarian-and-very-nearly dad and mom, both longtime birders, recently hiked a mountain in Panama just to catch a glimpse of this Harpy eagle and her fluffy babby chick. 🥹 (From a respectful distance, of course, with an honored local guide.) They know how much these birds mean to me, so they took and sent plenty of pictures. Oh, my heart.

luisonte:

Hombre… si cuelgas el cuadro en la cocina..

(via robotindisguise)

neil-gaiman:

Rachel Pollack wants me to gently remind people that she is still alive, and enjoying the life she has left to her.

violentwavesofemotion:

“The smell of coffee, white dust, tobacco and burnt bread, flowers with a fragrance of wine, and the crimson fruit, soft and overripe. A girl looking over her bare shoulder, with a flash of a smile, gold ear-rings showing from thick black hair brushed away from her face, long arms, a cigarette between her lips. Night like a great dark blanket, voices murmuring at a street corner, the air warm with tired flowers, and a hum from the sea.”

— Daphne du Maurier, from “I Will Never Be Young Again,” published c. 1932

(via 3liza)