go hard or go home on every holiday
He was surrounded by inky black, resting with bare feet on a small island with barely enough room for himself and the crooked tree that grew here. Its knotted roots broke the ground, leaves and flowers littering the damp ground. He could feel his fingers stretching into the ground, holding him still, black and orange centipedes climbing up the bark of his hands, his arms, until they wrapped themselves around his neck.
The water was black, like ink, and it rippled around him. He was alone, as he always had been, roots dug in deep to the ground.
The water rippled, a fin breaking the black surface, small waves breaking to the shore, and a face bobbed out of the water, silver hair pooling around it, spreading like oil across the surface of the black water.
Leaves fell from the crooked and misshapen tree, and Kirian recoiled from the fish.
"Leave me be."
The Avisa peered at him, and Kirian could see his eyes were clouded over with cataracts. He said nothing, simply stared at him with silvery dead eyes.
"You don’t belong here." Kirian pulled his roots up, drawing further into himself, wrapping them around his body, legs folded up to his chest and he took a shaky breath. "You don’t belong."
"But I am here." The Avisa gurgled, and Kirian covered his face with bark-covered fingers, stained by wet dirt.
"Leave me be." He felt himself slowly unraveling, roots drawing back into fingers, hair falling like leaves from his head. "No one belongs here."
The silver fish circled the island with quick movements of its powerful tail, and Kirian closed his eyes. Below him, he could feel bones, deep below the soil, the crooked tree’s roots wrapped around them, grasping them, digging in and unable to let go.
He awoke with a start at the sensation of his hair falling out of his head, like pinpricks against his scalp, and he sat up, taking in a deep breath of air.
The Avisa again, for the second time this week. Sometimes it was merely a silver fish, haunting his dreams, something ethereal and intangible, always slipping from his grasp.
He frowned, shaking his head and slipping from the bed, his night robe and pants providing a bit of warmth against the cool air of his bedroom.
If he was going to have dreams about him, he simply wouldn’t sleep. He could always grade papers, he resolved, and slowly limped from the bedroom, a hand against the wall for support.
Citizen, LIGHT is TIME (2014)
"Renowned Japanese watch manufacturer CITIZEN recently unveiled a stunning installation called LIGHT is TIME at Milan Design Week. Displayed in the Triennale di Milano exhibition hall, the spectacular installation consists of 80,000 main plates (the structural bases of watches) suspended from 4,200 metal threads hooked to the ceiling. The result is a truly one-of-a-kind experience for viewers, who are enveloped in a cloud of refracting light, time frozen around them like thousands of golden rain drops." - Jenny Zhang
me watching The Hobbit for the first time
THIS IS MY FAVORITE PICTURE ON THE INTERNET I S2G