ombuarchitecture:

RESEARCH LABORATORY

Groningen, Netherlands, 2003–2008

The facade isconstructed from flat, vertical aluminum slats, which, in places, are twisted outwards in bowed forms. Tall, vertical undulations are generated, which present an open or a closed aspect depending on the angle under which they are viewed.

On the lower level the colour yellow is used, which gradually changes to green towards the top of the building.

In the interior, two internal vertical voids allow daylight to enter the interior functioning as a form of internal facade. The two voids have the geometry of asymmetrical truncated cones which mirror each other vertically. Shared walkways surround these internal voids, creating a clear organisation whereby dark corridor systems can be avoided.On the ground floor, where daylight is at its lowest, yellow is used. Per floor this colour then deepens through to orange and finally to red on the uppermost level.

(via stardustmachine)

nerd-utopia:

Via September 5, 2014 Entertainment Weekly (Digital Edition)

(via soratane)

definitelydope:

To Float,
To Sink,
To Fight,
To Fly

By Peony Yip

(via disco-sand-castle)

gettingahealthybody:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

Wow wow wow. I’m sorry that words fail me at this moment.

gettingahealthybody:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

Wow wow wow. I’m sorry that words fail me at this moment.

(via pulpless-fiction)

photojojo:

Before theaters were nationwide chains, every small town and bustling city had its own unique cinemas and theaters.

In an effort to chronicle these iconic American buildings, photographer Stefanie Klavens has been roaming the country documenting the ones that still remain.

Documenting the Iconic American Theaters That are Still Around

via This Isn’t Happiness

soratane:

(╯◕_◕)╯*:・゚✧

soratane:

(╯◕_◕)╯*:・゚✧

soratane:

unamusedsloth:

Scumbag Mario. [video]

My best friend showed this gif to me when we went out for lunch the other day and he proceeded to say that I was Mario and he was Yoshi. So afterwards when I dropped him off at a street corner (to save myself the trouble of dealing with parking lot traffic), I shot double birds at him as I drove past.

soratane:

unamusedsloth:

Scumbag Mario. [video]

My best friend showed this gif to me when we went out for lunch the other day and he proceeded to say that I was Mario and he was Yoshi. So afterwards when I dropped him off at a street corner (to save myself the trouble of dealing with parking lot traffic), I shot double birds at him as I drove past.

wheelneverstopsturning:

Stealth:  Skill Mastery - Expert

wheelneverstopsturning:

Stealth:  Skill Mastery - Expert

(via stardustmachine)

inspirationfeed:

A limo made from three Deloreans. http://ift.tt/VRV967

inspirationfeed:

A limo made from three Deloreans. http://ift.tt/VRV967

(via fromdudley2irwin)

Television is way ahead of film because it doesn’t feel the need to polarize women. Male writers either want to make women the angel or the whore. Women are more complex than that.

(via fromdudley2irwin)

rahzzah:

Mamoa Aquaman by Rahzzah
I’m most excited about Jason Momoa being Aquaman

rahzzah:

Mamoa Aquaman by Rahzzah

I’m most excited about Jason Momoa being Aquaman

(via teaandhonor)

zombie-prince:

young-based-lord:

Ukrainian protester lights cigarette with molotov  

If this is not the most badass picture then idk what is

zombie-prince:

young-based-lord:

Ukrainian protester lights cigarette with molotov  

If this is not the most badass picture then idk what is

(via disco-sand-castle)

Accent theme by Handsome Code

editor/cinematographer/writer

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