jean pattern


«Approches» 1: Panoramique de la poésie expérimentale, Edited by Jean-François Bory and Julien Blaine, Approches, Paris, 1965, First edition. W/ Pierre Garnier, Henri Chopin, Bernard Heidsieck, Stephen Bann, Sylvester Houédard, John Furnival, Eugen Gomringer, Max Bense, Ludwig Harig, et al.

The principle goal of education in the schools should be creating men and women who are capable of doing new things, not simply repeating what other generations have done; men and women who are creative, inventive and discoverers, who can be critical and verify, and not accept, everything they are offered.
—  Jean Piaget
Missing Person, Please Help

Hello everyone,

Tumblr has proven to be an excellent resource in finding missing persons.

We are appealing to you, especially those in Scotland, but anyone can reblog.

Our friend Nusrat Jahan (or Nusrat Dow) has gone missing. She was last seen headed to the beach in Aberdeen, Scotland 5 days ago. The football match let out around the same time.

Nusrat is 5′3 and 34 years old. She was wearing flat black slip on shoes, black leggings or skinny jeans, a light grey patterned top, black rimmed glasses and was using a white handbag with black band across the top.

If you have seen someone resembling Nusrat or have any information, please get in touch with the Aberdeen police.




From: Le Mouvement, Galerie Denise René, Paris, April 6 – 30, 1955, with Yaacov Agam, Alexander Calder, Marcel Duchamp, Egill Jacobsen, Jesús Rafael Soto, and Jean Tinguely (and Victor Vasarely) (photo: Galerie Denise René, Paris)

I think I dress fine and my sister thinks I clash terribly and I realize I have achieved my goal of dressing like Jehan.


My 4th Design Studio brief: Colour
we were supposed to design a pattern out of something we love, and guess what i love? *moon emoji*

scarlet benoit does not care about wearing clothes “for her body type.” all clothes are for her body type. she wears crop tops and shorts and sweatshirts and skinny jeans and patterns and dresses and sweatpants and anything else you can imagine. she holds hands with her husband in the streets. her huge, scary-looking, husband who gets looks of terror and threats in the streets. she shuts down every single comment that comes their way. she holds and organizes protest for genetically modified wolf soldiers to be recognized as human beings. scarlet alternates between wanting to be held and wanting to be left alone. between feeling things crawling through her skin or feeling her finger that is not there and feeling like herself again. between sleeping soundly, tangled in wolf’s arms under their layers of blankets, to begging, pleading, screaming for the torture to stop; pushing wolfs worrying hands away from her because don’t fucking touch me right now. scarlet sings while she cooks dinner, wolf humming or whistling under her mediocre tunes. she hugs her friends every time she sees them, knowing that in the blink of an eye those she cares so deeply about can be gone. scarlet loves having her shoulders rubbed, melting into wolf as he tries to help her relieve stress after a long day. she never complains about her work, only feeling truly at ease out in the garden with the vegetables her grandmother loved so much. scarlet knows she’s rough, she knows she’s strong and tough and everything the media portrays her to be, but she wishes, just once, that people could allow her to be soft sometimes. that she didn’t have to be a role model all the time. that she could be insecure, that she could cry, that she could be everything she feels in her head. scarlet vents to winter. she loves wolf, but stars it feels so good to pour her heart out to someone who just understands what it’s like to feel so crazy sometimes. winter feels like the only one who can understand what it’s like to have a head filled with trauma, with illusions, with awful images. scarlet loves her friends so much. so much. scarlet has a huge heart, a heart that seems as if it should burst with how much love contained in it, but she just keeps loving.

drunk&in love•Shawn Mendes

A/N: was sitting in my draft’s collecting dust. Thought I’d share. This is the first ‘I love you’ with Shawn, luv ya!

(You should totally listen to ‘Security’ by Stop Light Observations while reading, or don’t, that’s fine too)


and Shawn says “I love you” like they’ve been saying it for years.

He says it as if she’s about to leave for work and he’s kissing her goodbye, got their child in his arms and he’s saying ‘love you sweetie, baby say goodbye to mummy’ and he says it as if they’re on the phone, and he goes ‘alright bub I gotta go, sound check, bye love you!’

Except they’re not married.

She’s not leaving for work; he hasn’t got their child in his arms and he’s not about to leave for sound check. They’re at his birthday party, just got back from the club and they’re drunk – generously so. He has to hold her to stand, and he wraps his arm around her giggling frame, snuggling her into him as he drinks from a fresh can of beer.

His family are piled around his condo, standing near frames and sitting on his sofa, careful not to spill anything on the fresh white material.

Before he says it – I love you - he remembers what she asked him as he bought the couch ‘But what about the stains?’ and he remembers his calm answer of ‘We’ll pass that bridge when we come to it’ that earned him a raised brow and exasperated shake of the head.

He briefly wonder’s if that’s why he loves her, because she puts up with his madness.

She’s still giggling when the thought of the words reaches his buzzing brain. She looks up at him, graces him with her sparkling eyes and he see’s stars. See’s Jupiter and mars.

Sees a blazing supernova and he’s brought back to what his mother used to tell him, just follow the stars Shawnthey’ll guide you home. “You ok birthday boy?” She asks over the mellow music flooding through his apartment.

Her tongue slips over her lips, rids her of any remaining lip gloss Shawn has kissed off during the night and she raises a painted brow as she waits for an answer.

“Yeah –“he nods. Then he bites his lip and repeats himself “Yeah I am” confirming his statement. He’s thinking that it’s been a while since he’s been fully content, and he wonders briefly if it’s the newly legal liquor in his veins, but then he realises it’s because of her.

Dressed in her favourite pair of jeans and silk flower patterned shirt, they’re two peas in a pod, wrapped up together like a Hawaiian landscape and he says it when she’s grinning. Say’s it against her forehead as he kisses the stray strands away, says it like it’s a fact and he’s known it since forever.

“I love you”  

And she turns her head up to him and meets his slightly frightened expression. The pockets of stars search his face and he’s left a drunken fool who just admitted he loves his girlfriend of 5 months for the first time.

Yet a smile slowly slips onto her face, fill’s his gut with butterflies and as she reaches up and cups his cheek she says “You’re drunk”

Shawn nods. He licks the stray bead of beer that lay in the corner of his mouth and then he dips down and rests his forehead against hers. She’s still grinning, and it’s blindingly beautiful.

With her he see’s life through a sepia filter. Through a camera that prints pictures with the date in the corner and the font is a slightly faded yellow, letting him know that it’s real. “That’s true, but in the morning I’ll be sober, and I’ll still love you”