The Phantom of Level G-5

mizisham: Abandoned Past by the_bighty_moosh on Flickr.

Fri, 24 May 2013 16:32:07 -0400

mizisham:

Abandoned Past by the_bighty_moosh on Flickr.

ihaveanaddiction: IMG_3906 by FedericaCambri -...

Fri, 24 May 2013 16:31:53 -0400

ihaveanaddiction:

IMG_3906 by FedericaCambri - http://flic.kr/p/empwx8

themagicfarawayttree: FENNEC FOX (DOG STAR) by Anne Lemanski

Fri, 24 May 2013 16:31:41 -0400

themagicfarawayttree:

FENNEC FOX (DOG STAR) by Anne Lemanski

alifewellsuited: Giorgio Armani Suit

Fri, 24 May 2013 16:30:56 -0400

alifewellsuited:

Giorgio Armani Suit

petitpoulailler: artmastered: 1817 Francesco Hayez (Italian...

Fri, 24 May 2013 16:27:39 -0400

petitpoulailler:

artmastered: 1817 Francesco Hayez (Italian Romanticism; 1791-1882) ~ The Three Graces [Decorative panel of dancers]

s-c-r-a-p-b-o-o-k: Jennifer Lee - Pale, olive and speckled...

Fri, 24 May 2013 16:27:14 -0400

s-c-r-a-p-b-o-o-k:

Jennifer Lee - Pale, olive and speckled bands, 2008 stoneware

Photo

Fri, 24 May 2013 16:26:30 -0400

just-breezy: Neist Point / jamiefg

Fri, 24 May 2013 15:13:38 -0400

just-breezy:

Neist Point / jamiefg

Photo

Fri, 24 May 2013 15:08:31 -0400

Photo

Fri, 24 May 2013 15:07:27 -0400

Photo

Fri, 24 May 2013 15:05:07 -0400

ccblades5: ‘Sitting on the bench praying for the death of Tee...

Fri, 24 May 2013 15:02:43 -0400

ccblades5:

‘Sitting on the bench praying for the death of Tee Hooper, I immediately filled up with shame again and began cheering for him all the harder. I cheered as I retreated to the country place I keep behind my eyes, the place I return to in times of danger and despair, the hermitage and refuge I kept secret to all but myself. I employed it as summer house, lecture hall, resort and private liar. In the madness of my terrible boyhood, it was the den I fell back on when my father beat me with his fists, when the plebe system tore me apart in the soft places, when the screaming of the coaches grew too loud or hit too close to home. I was the only one with the key to this inn of interior peace that I had built on the other side of retinas and corneas and the soft tissue of my face. It is a manse of solitude and shade and refuge. It is the place I go to every day to write the books which explain who I am to myself. In my years on the bench at The Citadel, I practice the art of writing during every game and had not the vaguest notion that I was doing so. One part of my mind remained on the game, like a idling motor, And I followed the routes and the fortunes of my teammates and cheered when appropriate or moaned with displeasure when disaster struck. But the other part, an embassy of a completely sovereign nation, would fling it’s doors open to the most authentic part of me. My eyes would light on a human face in the crowd and I would invent stories about that face and that body until these complete strangers would brim over in an amazing and vital life.’

- Pat Conroy