Sarcasm.
At night, in a taxi or on the subway, on my way to the Russian baths in Manhattan, where I go almost nightly, I listen to my iPod. Lately it’s been the modern, mournful collective oeuvre of Radiohead, which makes me feel properly apocalyptic and hopelessly imprisoned in my own broken heart and mind.
Harlem, NY, September 6, 1949
:C
(by chillhiro)
Dreamer Two. (by Louis Lander-Deacon)
(via Nicholas Hughes)






