I love flowers. The beautiful blooms really brightened my day.
What is your favourite flower? I think mine is currently the white lily. I seem to change so often, but currently that is the state which I am in again, as I was eight years ago, when I wrote a class essay dedicated to the spirit of the white lily.
Flowers shared from Paris Apartment
“His first act, therefore, was the journey. But it that not the case for all reporters? Is not our first thought to go on the road? The road is our source, our vault of treasures, our wealth. Only on the road does the reporter feel like himself, at home.
Such people, while useful, even agreeable, to others, are, if truth be told, frequently unhappy — lonely in fact. Yes, they seek out others and it may even seem to them that in a certain country or city they have managed to find true kindred and fellowship, having come to know and learn about a people, but they wake up one day and feel suddenly that nothing actually binds them to these people, that they can leave here at once.
For all intents and purposes, they do not grow attached to anything, do not put down deep roots. Their empathy is sincere, but superficial. If asked which of the countries they liked best, they are embarassed, they do not know how to answer. Which one? In a certain sense, all of them. There is something compelling about each. To which country would they like to return once more? Again, embarassment. They had never asked themselves such a question. The one certainty is that they would like to be back on the road, going somewhere. To be on their way again — that is the dream.”
Travels with Herodotus, Ryzard Kapucinksi
Superstition in Russia has it that when the first three digits of your train ticket added up equal the last three digits, you should eat the ticket for good luck! Art Lebedev Studio has made this more palatable with these lucky cookie tickets.
Designed by Art Lebedev Studio for the Russian Ministry of Transport. (via Yanko Design)
Le bruit des hommes est terrifiant, et celui qu’ils font en parlant m’assourdit. Je les aime au coin des rues, loin, étrangers à moi, assis dans le café. Si l’un d’entre eux s’approchait, pourrait-il exiger ma main, et si je lui donnais les deux, saurait-il en faire autre chose qu’un nœud derrière mon dos ? Je n’en crois pas un mot.
“It is youth’s felicity as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present, but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly imagined future–flowers and gold, girls and stars, they are only prefigurations and prophecies of that incomparable, unattainable young dream.”
From The Diamond as Big as the Ritz
A shot from Dotti’s space. I love.