aros:

“Tropical Islands’ resort” Inside a German Hangar Surrounded by Snow

farewell-kingdom:

Nina Katchadourian - Sorted Books

“I suddenly recalled a moment in the university library when, looking for a book, I had turned my head sideways as I walked down the stacks and thought how spectacular it would be if all the titles formed an accidental sentence when read one after the other in a long chain. Standing amidst the bookshelves in Half Moon Bay, my next move was simply to make this imaginary accident real. I spent days shifting and arranging books, composing them so that their titles formed short sentences. The exercise was intimate, like a form of portraiture, and it felt important that the books I selected should function as a cross section of the larger collection.”


Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that?Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting

Choose life. 
Choose a job.
Choose a career.
Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television,
Choose washing machines,
cars,
compact disc players,
and electrical tin openers.
Choose good health,
low cholesterol and dental insurance.
Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments.
Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.
Choose leisure wear and matching luggage.
Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows,
stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all,
pishing you last in a miserable home,
nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish,
fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself.
Choose your future.
Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that?


Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting