hello, salut, hola, 你好:
My name's Seamus and I'm 22 years old.
I live in west Philly.
I'm an English lit. and French double major,
and an art history minor
I curse like a sailor thank you very much.
I like books, a lot. I love reading, I love the smell of books, I love the sound when you first open a book and the spine makes that glorious stretch noise; nothing is more appealing to the eyes than a library full of old books.
I majored in gif making.
More like majored in becoming a hot piece of ass
I really wish that I wasn’t hungover when I visited Chenonceau. I feel like I would have much more appreciated it.
(Source : visitheworld)
lynnwinifred a dit : what do you DO?
Well, right now I have two jobs. I’m interning at the Philadelphia Museum of Art in the Modern and Contemporary gallery as a curatorial research assistant, which is just a big fancy way of saying that I am doing a lot a lot of research for some upcoming exhibits and creating object files on works we intend to exhibit.
Then my other job, which is the office in question, is at my university: Saint Joseph’s in Philly. Here I’m doing, again, a lot of research on various projects. One of which being compiling an extensive history of a building the university recently acquisitioned. It was formerly the Cardinal Residence of the archdiocese. It’s pretty fascinating work. But I really need to do a lot of digging.
Sadly though, this office is also used for meetings since it’s so big. and people are always coming in to get books as well. But nonetheless, it’s beautiful. The building itself is actually an old (19th century) carriage house that belonged to a nearby mansion that was sadly torn down in the 70’s.
Sorry for the winded response, but there ya go!
WEVE BEEN SMECKLEDORFED
THATS NOT EVEN A WORD AND I AGREE WITH YA
Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre waiting for lunch at the restaurant ‘La Coupole, Paris, 1973. Photo: Guy Le Querrec.
(Source : gaygasmic)
(Source : f-centralperk)
in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.
Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway (via englishistheartofbullshit)
Hail, happiness, then, and after happiness, hail not those dreams which bloat the sharp image as spotted mirrors do the face in a country-inn parlour; dreams which splinter the whole and tear us asunder and wound and split us apart in the night when we would sleep; but sleep, sleep, so deep that all shapes are ground to dust of infinite softness, water of dimness inscrutable, and there, folded, shrouded, like a mummy, like a moth, prone let us lie on the sand at the bottom of sleep.
Orlando, Virginia Woolf (via thewreckageofmen)
(Source : suitboss)
I have no idea what the story is behind this, but I love the use of Matisse’s dancing ladies.
(Source : francoislct)
haha
(Source : marriedtotheseacomics)
(Source : flipphones)
(Source : scaredshitlessss)
