Flying almost ‘cheek to cheek,’ these Kingfisher Scout planes (OS2U) demonstrate the acme of precision in aerial maneuvers.
I am obsessed with becoming a woman comfortable in her skin.
Go all the way with it. Do not back off. For once, go all the goddamn way with what matters.
The French town of Chamonix huddles in the narrow valley crushed between Mont Blanc and Le Brévent
National Geographic | June 1960
I don’t want realism. I want magic. Yes, yes, magic! I try to give that to people. I misrepresent things to them. I don’t tell truth, I tell what ought to be truth. And if that is sinful, then let me be damned for it!
It was like when you make a move in chess and just as you take your finger off the piece, you see the mistake you’ve made, and there’s this panic because you don’t know yet the scale of disaster you’ve left yourself open to.
And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.
Guildenstern: It’s autumnal.
Rosencrantz (examining the ground): No leaves.
Guildenstern: Autumnal - nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day… Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it… Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses… deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth — reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. At such times, perhaps, coincidentally, the leaves might fall, somewhere, by repute. Yesterday was blue, like smoke.
Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (via elucipher)
Yesterday was blue, like smoke.