Tales Of Adventure

Things I like,things I find interesting and just things in general. Good things,that is!!

sarahaliceyoung:

Sometimes you need to remind yourself that you were the one who carried you through the heartache. You are the one who sits with the cold body on the shower floor, and picks it up. You are the one who feeds it, who clothes it, who tucks it into bed, and you should be proud of that. Having the strength to take care of yourself when everyone around you is trying to bleed you dry, that is the strongest thing in the universe.

This is what I needed to read today.

(via toriealeksandria)

Don’t sacrifice yourself too much, because if you sacrifice too much there’s nothing else you can give and nobody will care for you.

—Karl Lagerfeld (via kushandwizdom)

highfashionandmakeup:

Sasha Pivovarova in Atelier Versace for Vogue Italia, September 2007
Editorial: Couture Memoirs by Paolo Roversi

highfashionandmakeup:

Sasha Pivovarova in Atelier Versace for Vogue Italia, September 2007

Editorial: Couture Memoirs by Paolo Roversi

roachpatrol:

Historian and Feminist Scholar Gerda Lerner

When women were campaigning for the right to vote, they’d go on hunger strikes.

And what the police would do would be to grab them up, tie them to a chair, and ram a feeding tube down their throat. The clamps and tubes they used tore up the womens’ mouths. Sometimes the tube would go into the woman’s lungs. Then the woman might die of pneumonia. After women dying in jail became distasteful, they’d let the ill women go for a short period to recuperate in the community, then come and arrest them again.

Also suffragette protestors were beaten. Viciously. By the police. There’s all these pictures of smiling suffragettes having parades— they were risking their lives, some of them died. The police would come and beat them and sexually assault them. There aren’t many pictures of that, the newspapers wouldn’t run them, or the local government wouldn’t let them. 

They also chained themselves to shit, they set buildings on fire and smashed in windows, they followed politicians around shouting abuse, this one british woman threw herself under king george’s horse to be a martyr—they were violent. They were met with violence and they replied with violence. And a lot of them died. 

Then black women had to fight the same fucking fight all over again. 

That’s what  I think about when men say they gave us the right to vote. 

(Source: exgynocraticgrrl, via wrackpurtsz)

Post-Romantic

poetrybomb:

I’ll leave us with St. Jude;
with the ghosts of one-night lovers
lingering in empty parking lots
and dark alleyways, dirty stairwells
in old buildings, in the backrooms
of cold and rusted hearts.


I liked us best dishonest,
sleep-deprived, when our
words slurred enough to
make sense. I’m afraid