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All my liked shit, organized.

@mythingsorganized

themeeg:
tin-pan-ali:
taking-the-tardis-to-asgard:
mymahoganymyrules:
maslab:
jykinturah:
nomiros:
takeshitakenji:
“Someone should write a book where the main character slowly falls in love with the reader.”
Last line of the book : “Please, don’t close the book, I don’t want to die”
oh my god
I’d just like, keep the book open and tape it to a wall.
I’m almost afraid to want it.
John Green, we’re waiting.
“So I guess this is it, isn’t it? There are no more chapters, right? You said we were getting close and that was a while ago.”
I stared up into the sky, it was the same old sky there had always been, except for some rainclouds that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. It wasn’t raining, but they were still floating up there, grey and dismal.
You begin to ask me something. “Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. Things just feel really final right now, like the downward slope is starting to level out. Eventually… We’ll hit the back cover, right?”
I sat down on a bench- had that been there a few minutes ago? It was hard to tell.
“Did you say yes? I think I heard you. Your voice keeps getting harder to hear.”
Thunder rumbled, but… It wasn’t like the thunder I’m used to. It sounded like you, and it sounded sad. From one of the clouds, a single drop of rain fell on the grainy wood of the bench.
“… You’re crying, aren’t you? I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I wish I could change this. I wish I could reach where you are.”
Thunder rolled again, and behind it was a voice. Your voice.
“Me? I’ll be fine, I think. I don’t know if this has ever happened before. I don’t really know what happens when you… close the book.”
You ask me if I’m afraid.
And oddly, I’m not.
“No, actually. Because… Whatever happens to me when you close the cover… You can always open the book up again, right?” and that’s when the answer hits me, the realization jolting me to stand again. “That’s it, isn’t it? You can open it back up. The words won’t change, but I’ll still be here. You can meet me all over again, and I can meet you, and everything we have will come back.”
It’s raining now, and the clouds have merged together, and in them, for the first time… I see you. 
You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my entire life.
You’re crying, but it’s quiet, and maybe that was the sound of your tears hitting paper.
I realize that we don’t have a lot of time.
“Listen- before it’s all over- I want you to know that everything, all of this… Even being over, it was worth it. It was worth it to meet you, to get to know you. Even if when you close that cover and I disappear- it was all worth it. I love you.”
You love me too, I know it, I can feel it, just like for a moment I can feel what it would be like to hold your hand.
There is a very long pause, and I realize you’re prolonging what has to happen.
“You can do it.”
For the first time, you have to be the hero. You have to close the book so we can keep going. And I believe in you.
The sky gets darker, slowly, but then it gets light again, and your face is still up in those clouds. You open your mouth and for the first time I HEAR you, not just feel what you’re saying or understand you in my own head, your voice comes through the pages in your world and into the reality of mine, and it reverberates and I can hear every little nuance, down to the hitch from you crying.
“I’ll never forget you,” you say. “I’ll come back soon.”
The end.
SOMEONE DID AND NOW IM EMOTIONAL
im actually cryinG

Watch this with headphones or in a quite room with loud speakers. It is by far one of the creepiest things I have ever heard.

i didn’t last five seconds

One of you guys do it and tell me how it goes

Its pretty sketchy. It makes you feel uneasy, but, spoiler alert, nothing is a screamer. Its just voices. 

holy fuck

Well I’m uneasy.

at first, this was just unsettling, but from the first minute onward [and after i turned down my volume], i felt violently ill. this is a very accurate representation of what the voices are really like. i would highly suggest listening to this if you’d like to have some sort of idea of what happens in some people’s heads.

I almost had an anxiety attack because of the reality of this. Especially when people don’t know you’re listening to it and keep on acting as they would normally. God I’m still shaking a little.

nearly starts crying after first minute

i lasted half a second

but in my defense I’m alone and it’s almost midnight

jksndanfkjasnkjdafsn NOPE

Hoy shit. I got all panicky when the giggling started.

i’m SOBBING

I’m too afraid to try it

There was one part that made me so anxious. It’s so interesting. I like it though.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles roll

ed into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was. The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full.. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’ The professor then produced two Beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.The students laughed.. ‘Now,’ said the professor as the laughter subsided, ‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things—-your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions—-and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.. The sand is everything else—-the small stuff. ‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ he continued, ‘there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and mow the lawn. Take care of the golf balls first—-the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand. One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the Beer represented. The professor smiled and said, ‘I’m glad you asked.’ The Beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of Beers with a friend.

forever reblog

wow

From the ArtBase: Add-Art is a Firefox extension which replaces advertising images on web pages with art images from a curated database. This extension is an alternative to conventional add blockers which simply remove advertisements, leaving negative space in their place. Add-Art instead transforms your web browser into an art gallery, featuring contemporary artists and curators.

Source: rhizome.org
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“The Torah with Rashi’s Commentary: Vol. 1, Genesis,” Edited by Rabbi Yisrael Herczeg

I went up to him after I took the picture, to find out what he was reading. He welcomed my interruption seamlessly; it was like he had been expecting me. He showed me that he was reading commentary on The Book of Genesis. Then he asked me, “Do you want to hear a great idea?” I said yes happily. He said he was concentrating on the very first sentence in Genesis, where it mentions what was created in the world first. He pointed at the sentence in his book and said, “If you read the full sentence, it says that the sky and the earth were created first. But, if you read just the first half of the sentence, the Hebrew word in the middle reveals that it was actually the alphabet that was created before anything else.” He took his finger off the page then, and he pointed at the subway doors. “You see these subway doors,” he told me, “they really are made of metal.” In a quieter tone, full of meditative curiosity, he continued. ”At their foundation though, they’re really made of letters.” He lowered his hand then and looked around the subway car, in a way as if he was literally reading the atmosphere.