andromeda, oil on canvas, 50x50cm, 2013
There’s something particularly eerie about an abandoned shopping mall. Perhaps it’s the stark contrast from its intended purpose: to see such a sterile place once designed to entice throngs of shoppers into its doors, now so completely devoid of any human life, dilapidated and darkened with time. It’s basically the very definition of post-apocalyptic. But in the case of the (now ironically named) New World shopping mall in Bangkok, Thailand, abandonment by humans doesn’t equate with lifelessness. The mall, which reportedly caught fire in 1999 (rumored to be arson by a competitor), has since flooded with several feet of water and become a paradise for koi and catfish.
As seen in these photos from chef / travel writer Jesse Rockwell, the resulting “urban aquarium” is at once delightful and surreal. Rockwell writes on his travel, photography, and food blog A Taste of The Road that someone deliberately introduced the fish (to probably reduce mosquitoes) into the vacant mall, but that locals in Bangkok’s old town “discourage people from visiting it.” He says he had to wait for a policeman to leave before entering, which makes his resulting images all the more breathtaking. (via The Verge)
— Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience (via quotes-shape-us)
— Richard Siken (via funeralfaerie)
Just one of those things that I always wondered about. Stags and otters are all very well, but what if you end up with a tiny chameleon or giant blue whale? I mean, it could be a giant tub of nutella…
Anyway, so glad I got around to doing this pic -drawing the less attractive animals was awesome.
Popped it up on Redbubble because they have tote bags and cushions now which is just wow - can grab it also on cards or posters - check it out here!
he just can’t let it go
Frozen is the new Black
I’ve completely lost it.
O H M Y G O D
This is A+
“I thought about the dust.”
This reminds me of how I feel about all this.
Hopeless, worthless feelings that linger – like a cloud of dust lying suspended in midair. It takes time to settle. After a minute shaking it comes up again. Swirling. Confusing. Distracting.
But like dust particles against sun rays, the random glimmering specks of subtle passion make this longing bearable. Beautiful, even.
Standing as if waiting for signals from another world, these men on the Djibouti shores hope for a faint cellphone signal from neighboring Somalia. (via)
what an incredible photo D:
Sometime ago, I came home from a particularly frustrating morning and I slammed a bunch of keys because I didn’t know how else to examine it. Now I look back at the chagrin of messy thoughts I thought I had deleted, calm enveloping my head - but not my heart - hours away from something I never thought I would be associated with:
I’ve only done 6 5am trainings so far. 21 more to go excluding doubles on weekends. 4 more months to go.
I hate it. I hate waking up at 4am to my alarm, the first thought in my mind always yelling at my propensity to land myself in agonizing situations. I hate having to explain to every cab driver what I’m doing out at this hour. I hate having to explain that no, no, it’s NOT BLOODY CANOEING. Most people who know I’m in DB still don’t get it. I think it’s surprised them because it doesn’t seem like my kind of thing. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it is. No one ever knows what the hell I’m thinking, right?
It’s a sort of a gritty feeling having new days to hate. Sometimes, the only good thing about it is the stars I can look up to when I can barely make out the shoulder in front of me. 5am trainings at Kallang are strangely peaceful. The water is eerily calm and even with my eyes open, time stands still.
Vladimir Nabokov and his "Amid the liquid sounds and quicksilver gloss of the pitiless night-" occasionally drifts up to my frantic mind when I’m trying to focus on breathing and slamming my hand into unforgiving viscous waters.
Amid the liquid sounds and quicksilver gloss of the pitiless night… distant yellow beacons stretching out across the glassy surface remind me of kodak film strips and I’m lost for a second, Chian’s voice evaporating in the sudden draught from a surge. The stadium lights are midnight suns, temporarily bleaching images in my head of dead things that could be floating leagues beneath me, trying to grab my hand each time I dip.
I try to distract myself with strains of a song but I lose it. I lunge for a happy memory but it slinks away and sinks. The physics behind each stroke is too much to quantify in the milliseconds before I hit the water again. I have to move faster than the water beneath me or else we go negative. How??? It appears to be deceivingly easy to people who have never sat legs tensed, back strained and fingers numb for whole kilometers.
I’m always being switched between the mid and back pack. It’s frustrating because the water is extremely different at the front, mid and back. It doesn’t help that I used to be a right. Left is hell. MY LEFT ARM IS USELESS. It keeps giving up on me in the different waters. We must be swift as a coursing river? SWIFTER, more like. Discipline. Discipline. I am here to push myself out of my comfort zone and pathetic life. When my muscles give up, my mind takes over. I feel like a cellist; a violinist; concentrating on the precision of every stroke as if deftly bowing to control the length and character of each note.
I want nothing more than to be in bed. How do I hang on for 4 more months? It seems to me that it is Sleep’s scythe that I am driving into the depths of darkness and not a blade. But everyone is here with me. I can hear them drawing sharp breaths. I can hear the swish of their lifejackets. I can hear the resolve in someone’s call. They must be as exhausted too. They must long for sleep too. But everyone is here with me.
Amid the liquid sounds and quicksilver gloss of the pitiless night, I smile. Because parsecs above us and beyond us, space continues to expand without a care in the universe about us — and yet, everyone is here with me — 18 people sitting in a wooden vessel in the dark, expending every last bit of energy to move water…because it means something to us.
I’m here. I made it. It’s time.
such an incredible actress D:
also, this scene.