You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver 

//

"you only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves”

//

it should be that simple, right?

(Source: observando)

penamerican:

"As I’ve grown older, I’ve grown more convinced there’s nothing that shouldn’t be talked about. If we think we’re protecting each other, we’re not." - Jonathan Safran Foer

"write the bones"
  • Camera: Nikon SUPER COOLSCAN 9000 ED

penamerican:

"As I’ve grown older, I’ve grown more convinced there’s nothing that shouldn’t be talked about. If we think we’re protecting each other, we’re not." - Jonathan Safran Foer

"write the bones"

(via powells)

moma:

Alexander Calder was born today in 1898. The existentialist philosopher Jean–Paul Sartre praised Calder’s mobiles, describing them as “lyrical invention.” 

[Alexander Calder. Untitled. 1939.] 

I forgave him, a hundred times over, and never on the basis of anything more than this: a look, a gesture, a certain tilt of his head.