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This is My Best, Sell Your Hard Times from the series Pitch Blackness, 2009
Hank Willis Thomas
Torre Pirelli di Gio Ponti, 1953
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The Arctic comb jelly or sea nut (Mertensia ovum) is commonly found in the surface (top 50 meters) in cold, northern waters. Like other cydippid ctenophores, it has two tentacles fringed with smaller tentacles, which are dappled with colloblasts. Colloblasts are specialized cells that, upon contact with other organisms, act as a glue, allowing the comb jelly to pull the food to its mouth with little resistance. This species has light bioluminescence in blues and greens, but the rainbow effect in this photo is caused by light refracting off of its comb-like rows of cilia, which propel it through the water.
(Source: oceanportal, via sagansense)
Linda
Linda Evangelista by Steven Klein for W September 2012.
Starlite Theatre
The covered ticket booth to the long abandoned Starlite Drive-In Theatre in Schertz, Texas | Update: The lettering, star, and light fixture has been stripped of the now grafitti-filled structure. - Via
(Source: midcenturymodernfreak)
Three Lobes in the Nebula
“Each of us is a singular narrative, which is constructed, continually unconsciously, by, though, in us – through our perceptions, our feelings, our thoughts, our actions; and not least, our discourse, our spoken narrations.
To be ourselves we must have ourselves – possess, if need be re-possess, our life stories. We must ‘recollect’ ourselves, recollect the inner drama, the narrative of ourselves. A man needs such a narrative, a continuous inner narrative, to maintain his identity, his self.
The world keeps disappearing, losing meaning, vanishing – and he must seek meaning, make meaning, in a desperate way, continually inventing, throwing bridges of meaning over abysses of meaninglessness, the chaos that yawns continually beneath him.
The presence of others, other people, excite and rattle him, force him into an endless, frenzied, social chatter, a veritable delirium of identity making and seeking, the presence of plants, a quiet garden, the non-human order, making no social or human demands upon him, allow this identity-delirium to relax, to subside; and by their quiet, non-human self-sufficiency and completeness allow him a rare quietness and self-sufficiency of his own, by offering (beneath, or beyond, all merely human identities and relations) a deep wordless communion with Nature itself, and with this restored sense of being in the world, being real.”
- Oliver Sacks