this is kai and sexy lips »>ouhhh #EXOK #KAI
[PIC + TRANS] 120916 EXO-K spotted at movie theater
Tonight at 11:00, I went with some friends to the movies, and after we bought tickets, I distantly saw someone that resembled Chanyeol! I looked closer and wow~ all of EXO-K were there! They were buying popcorn and drinks! I also saw Sehun pay for everything! Haha~ we totally switched and went to see the movie they were going into. Totally did not expect them there!
Vibrantly coloured butterfly specimens look set to fly away from this heritage-listed Sydney terrace.
From ‘Walls that Talk’, a story on page 212 of Vogue Living July/Aug 2012.
Photograph by Jason Busch.
thankyou for today, and i lurv ya. #instagram #instagood #iloveyou #sweet - @sweethella- #webstagram
The women pass beyond the groups of close-up vegetables
in lines of stagecraft, hair under glass.
Pink is not a color but the mind
drinking soup from a crock.
The walls are lemon.
The dove walks up the wreckage of a paper birch.
The women are difficult. The women are sausages echo
and happy at such a calling. I want to see
women icing with wax between the trees.
I think women’s minds remain longer, further
where they are. I don’t want anyone to see
the stains of my cigarettes on the edge.
I have exchanged sandwiches with great
writers out of paper. What is there to admire
in a room of glass and not yet green trees.
I watch the way they stand and marry them
in one awkward angle. They all want to buy me
humming lamps for my gloating lounge.
This is the dental way the crystal comes to a head.
I know not the rooms of my house more than they.
One of them stumbles and I see her hip joint
is more witness than light. The curve at
the bark of a tree would be her shingle.
Roofs covered with hats, butterflies tied to gravel,
the whole hot boat aloof near the lamp-post moon
of Edvard Munch.
It has had her made out of a marble
lit from within, a light on a spring at a
twist of glycerine, Mephisto, Borealis.
It had her held down with an oval of gypsum
used to weigh the deathmask. We went out
for a walk nude to the shoulders in pouted
wingless puff ers. We danced to the nines
at a point of dock hewn of alternate
layers cardboard and radium. It spun us
and the stars coiled. I knew then I should
become a drain on race and continent.
Whatever larval approved.
Her toes drew blood from the granites, I saw.
Askew adored. Doorways are lights. Flowers are
the roots of the hotter layers. Animals play
at being loose in the more breathable compounds.
The sun lifted off for a lark, and other spongy points.
She told me how the gypsum was a spasm,
reachable only at certain slants of the
grain’s axis. Later we would discuss the starving
of bottle cranes, drill bit canvas, oleo
submerged abrasions, the wearing of a strain
on the belt. She lifted a thigh the distance
of a paper cap from its milkbottle throat.
I was sheared.
We must risk much in the dreaming of the women.
In 1957, the Italian government commissioned Salvador Dalí to paint a series of 100 watercolor illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy, the greatest literary work written in the Italian language. The illustrations were to be…
Korean style :)
of every object
they pine away;
but aloof off,
everything did stink
wise and discreet
and low like kine
seed text: Anatomy of Melancholy