a visual collective outlet of inspirationDesert flower, flowers from the garland of our houses where families bicker in the open air, you browse on the stones of the day, simple, while field and sky like sky and sea appear all around. Rustic desert flower, no evening streaming with lights. No shepherds drenched by dew, slender fire of the hedges. No marsh-marigold, bilberry, swamp-violet or Florentine iris, or gentian, no angelica, no Parnassian grass or marsh-myrtle. You’re Pieruti, Zuan and tall Bepi with his walking-sticks of bone, slim at the helm of his wagon, pasture flower. You become hay. Burn, burn, sun of my town, little desert flower. The years pass over you, and so do I, with the shadow of the acacia tree, with the sunflower, on this quiet day.
a visionary on many fronts, the stunning words of mr. pier paolo pasolini. by sv
great what’s next? olivier zahm for playgirl and camille bidault for penthouse interviewed by alain badiou and photographed by hedi slimane? with you all working overtime, high and low is looking more low than high.
abbey lee inhales by hedi slimane. hedi has a self promoting 
ah those old cigarette ads… was there nothing offensive back then?
awsome picture for the joel meyerovitz retrospective at 
on average, 9 kg (20 lbs) of eggplant contains about the same amount of nicotine as a cigarette. so if you’re trying to quit smoking, binge on eggplants my friends.
