The stalks of these flowers are already dried up, but their blossoms are preserved and kept fresh by the medical infusion bags. The life-span of every living creature is limited. The infusion bags stand for the progress in medicine and the prolongation of human life. They somehow carry an ambivalent message as they refer to both death and life the same time. To preserve the beauty of the flowers artifically with the help of the infusion bags points out man’s inclination to repress the fact that he has to die and to postpone death.

The stalks of these flowers are already dried up, but their blossoms are preserved and kept fresh by the medical infusion bags. The life-span of every living creature is limited. The infusion bags stand for the progress in medicine and the prolongation of human life. They somehow carry an ambivalent message as they refer to both death and life the same time. To preserve the beauty of the flowers artifically with the help of the infusion bags points out man’s inclination to repress the fact that he has to die and to postpone death.

mild-bloom:

i dont need a valentine i need 8 million dollars and a fast metabolism

There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.

John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via kushandwizdom)

I don’t like to feel so crazy about someone. I don’t like to feel like my happiness is so tied up in another person.

Zevin, Gabrielle. Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac. (via blackrush)

If this isn’t an entrance to a fairy world then I don’t know what is…

Fairy Glen, Isle of Skye, Scotland, April 2014

myheartbeatsforhummus:

This post is eveeeeeeeerything

Valerie Manne

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