Fari

Oct 17

iheartmyart:

Arwa Abouon, I’m Sorry, I Forgive You (Sorry Mama), 2012, Dyptich, 101.6 x 76.2 cm each, Digital print and graphically Ornamented frame, ed of 7. 

iheartmyart:

Arwa Abouon, I’m Sorry, I Forgive You (Sorry Mama), 2012, Dyptich, 101.6 x 76.2 cm each, Digital print and graphically Ornamented frame, ed of 7. 

Sep 25

(via musicpnppl)

Sep 23

(Source: dopamineandshit, via astroisgoodforyou)

Amore …

Amore …

Sep 13

iheartmyart:

Anxiety by *Vera-Chimera
(via lotusmist)

iheartmyart:

Anxiety by *Vera-Chimera

(via lotusmist)

Aug 09

Frida

Frida

Aug 08

(via soletsgo)

Jul 29

iheartmyart:

Digital Art by Adam Martinakis
(via makou)

iheartmyart:

Digital Art by Adam Martinakis

(via makou)

Jul 23

(Source: letmyinspirationflow)

bbnnt:

(via ! BM&FILS feat JACK BAUER !)

bbnnt:

(via ! BM&FILS feat JACK BAUER !)

(via bbnnt)

Jul 22

“If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets.” — Haruki Murakami (via intr0uble)

(Source: dormio, via sleazesister)

Jul 21

Your divine body

Your divine body

Jul 18

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” — C.S. Lewis (via kari-shma)

Jul 17

Jul 16

Sex is not a goddamn performance.

Sex should feel as natural as drinking water.

It should not require confidence.

Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe.

Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.

You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh.

It’s not about being “good in bed.”

It’s about being happy.

One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.

What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you.

Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.

Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be.

I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.

I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want.

It’s originality.

It’s passion.

It’s joy.

Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.

I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.

“Good in bed,” what.

You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you.

Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel.

This isn’t a test.

” — (via nikolaiolivier)

(via sleazesister)