We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.

Anaïs Nin (via blairwitchwaldorf)

(via thisursinefellow)

Source gowns

Reblogged from gowns

a road in Tasmania from Google street view

aivii:

Long time no post, sorry it’s mostly jank doodles as usual

Taking a break was super great for me in every way except for art, oops, but it’s print-making crunch time now so I’m picking up the slack. Hope everyone’s been well! :)

(via theskc)

Source aivii

Reblogged from aivii