guglemaps

I want the view from the top of the hill.

Photograph by Helmut Newton.

Do not be afraid to be weak. Do not be ashamed to be tired. You look good when you’re tired. You look like you could go on forever. Now come into my arms. You are the image of my beauty .

― Leonard Cohen

Marilyn Monroe was photographed over three daily sessions, just six weeks before she died | Photograph by Bert Stern [Last Sitting book].

Dos fuerzas se funden para mejorarse a sí mismas. Fundamento de desarrollo humano 1+1=3 ⇔ Sinergia.

Photograph by Paola Kudacki for i-D Spring 2013.

The first point of discussion is the hunt. However there’s no need two players for this game. You can always hunt yourself.

I want to be hunted  |  Illustration by by Anne Bastian.

In Ancient Greek mythology the Owl was a creature sacred to Athena, Goddess of the night who represented wisdom. Athena, the Greek Goddess of Wisdom had a companion Owl on her shoulder, which revealed unseen truths to her. Owl had the ability to light up Athena’s blind side, enabling her to speak the whole truth, as opposed to only a half truth.

Owls | Charcoal & Watercolor on paper by Tati Suarez.

The rose was created when the gods were still on earth. The Greeks called the rose “the king of flowers” until the poet Sappho, in her Ode to the Rose, dubbed it the “queen of flowers” forevermore. According to the Greeks, the rose first appeared with the birth of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. When Aphrodite first emerged from the sea, the earth produced the rose to show that it could match the gods in the creation of perfect beauty.

Photograph by Petrovsky & Ramone for Vogue Netherlands.

[Saint George’s Day in Catalonia]

If you need to crash and crawl, do it to get higher.

Into the Ether, For Usher Maripossa’s 2013 campaign | Photograph by Lissy Elle.

Se estendo o braço, chego exactamente aonde o meu braço chega ―
Nem um centímetro mais longe.
Toco só onde toco, não aonde penso.
Só me posso sentar aonde estou.
E isto faz rir como todas as verdades absolutamente verdadeiras,
Mas o que faz rir a valer é que nós pensamos sempre noutra coisa,
E vivemos vadios da nossa realidade.
E estamos sempre fora dela porque estamos aqui.

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Si extiendo el brazo, llego exactamente hasta donde mi brazo llega ―
ni un centímetro más allá.
Toco sólo donde todo, no donde pienso.
Sólo me puedo sentar allí donde estoy.
Y esto causa risa como todas las verdades absolutamente verdaderas,
pero lo que hace reir en serio es que nosotros pensamos siempre en otra cosa,
y vivimos evadidos de nuestra realidad.
Y estamos siempre fuera de ella porque estamos aquí.

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If I stretch out my arm, I get exactly where my arm gets ―
Not even a centimeter farther.
I only touch where I touch, not where I think.
I can only sit down where I am.
And that’s funny like all really true truths,
But what’s really funny is that we’re always thinking something else,
And we live truant from our reality.
And we’re always outside it because we’re here.

―Alberto Caeiro [Fernando Pessoa heterony], Poemas Inconjuntos

Photograph by Peter Sutherland.

(Lady Bracknell)  ― Good afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope you are behaving very well.

(Algernon) ― I’m feeling very well, Aunt Augusta.

(Lady Bracknell) ― That’s not quite the same thing. In fact the two things rarely go together. 

― Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

The End of the Day

In all its raucous impudence
Life writhes, cavorts in pallid light,
With little cause or consequence;
And when, with darkling skies, the night

Casts over all its sensuous balm,
Quells hunger’s pangs and, in like wise,
Quells shame beneath its pall of calm,
“Aha, at last!” the Poet sighs.

“My mind, my bones, yearn, clamoring
For sweet repose unburdening.
Heart full of dire, funeral thought,

I will lie out; your folds will cling
About me: veils of shadow wrought,
O darkness, cool and comforting!”

— Charles Baudelaire

Excerpt of Les Fleurs du Mal | Illustration for the La Mort section by Carlos Schwabe.

Lubed soul.

Photograph by Roman Walczyna.

Since the Hesperides themselves are mere symbols of the gifts the apples embody, they cannot be actors in a human drama. Their abstract, interchangeable names are a symptom of their impersonality.

— Evelyn Harrison

heaveninawildflower:

‘The Garden of The Hesperides’ ( 1869-1873) by Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898) | Oil on canvas.

And so I watched you from afar coming all the way whispering the wind.

Patti Hansen over Manhattan, New York, 1977 | Photograph by Helmut Newton.

[Inspirational track here]

Doing down the road to sickness.

RN7, France 1954 | Photograph by Christer Strömholm.