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thenewenlightenmentage:

Hey, Who Ripped Open a Hole in the Universe?

This eerie patch of blackness in the middle of a busy star cluster may look like a rather misshapen black hole, but it’s actually something even stranger. It’s also quite possibly the loneliest, darkest, coldest place in the entire cosmos.

This is Barnard 68, and it’s what’s known as a dark molecular cloud. Basically, the dust and gas that makes up Barnard 68 is so tightly packed together that it blocks out all the light behind it. The result might look like some alien civilization tore apart the fabric of the universe and opening up a gateway to the howling void, but thankfully - or unfortunately, I guess, depending on how you feel about the howling void - it’s just gas. Make that a lot of gas.

Here’s some additional info on this particular patch of darkness:

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NOTHING MAKES ME HAPPIER THAN THIS GAME. I do not believe that there has been any RPG more poetic than this one.

Also: browsing through geeked-out LoM posts/fanart/in-game screencaps & game updates on Tumblr 

legendofmana:

Just.

this is true happiness.

Indeed. 

warningdontreadthis:

 Deep in the rainforests of the Indian state of Meghalaya, bridges are not built, they’re grown. For more than 500 years locals have guided roots and vines from the native Ficus Elastica (rubber tree) across rivers, using hollowed out trees to create root guidance systems. When the roots and vines reach the opposite bank they are allowed to take root. Some of the bridges are over 100 feet long and can support the weight of 50 people.

(Source: underaged)

elegantlytasteless:

When Mildred and Richard Loving married in Washington, D.C. in 1958, they didn’t think they were breaking the law. Both were from the small town of Central Point, Virginia. Mildred was of African-American and Native American decent and Richard was white. They did know it was illegal for them to marry in their state-as well as 15 others—which is why they left to tie the knot. Within a month of returning home, police burst into their bedroom in the middle of the night and arrested them under the state’s anti-miscegenation law. They were sentenced to a one-year in prison term that could be suspended if they left Virginia.

Related Link: Kentucky Church Bans Interracial Couples from Becoming Members 

Banished to Washington, D.C., Mildred Loving, who did not consider herself a political person, wrote about her plight to Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy. The American Civil Liberties Union took up the case and brought it all the way to the United States Supreme Court. In 1967, in a landmark Civil Rights ruling, the court struck down America’s laws against interracial marriage.

On the 40 th anniversary of the ruling, Loving issued a statement that read, “I am still not a political person, but I am proud that Richard’s and my name is on a court case that can help reinforce the love, the commitment, the fairness, and the family that so many people, black or white, young or old, gay or straight, seek in life.”

In 1965, Life Magazine sent photographer Grey Villet to photograph the Lovings and their three children. Writing for the New York Times, Villet’s widow Barbara recalled that he approached the assignment with the aim of creating a tender family portrait, not an overtly political statement. “He chose as he did in every essay…to seek out the literal heart of the matter: a love story.” However, the images were utterly groundbreaking exactly because of the intimate and emotionally transparent way they portrayed a taboo subject.

Filmmaker Nancy Buirski rediscovered Villet’s photographs while making a documentary for HBO called The Loving Story. Twenty of the images are on display at the International Center of Photography in New York City from January 20 through May 6, 2012. The Loving Story will debut on February 14.

The second photo is of their three children, Peggy, Sidney, and Donald.

(Source: )

(Source: french-exit22)

electrikthunder:

Beautiful dreamlike illustration prints by Chalermphol Harnchakkam. VISIT HIS WEBSITE.

emily dickinson to the rescue.

lindseyannebaker:

At a local poetry reading tonight, one of the readers kept making reference to his “chest brain.” I don’t know what that is, but it kept making me think of Michael Dickman’s “Brain Death” or otherwise oft-mentioned brains. And then I just wanted to go read Michael Dickman. 

Standing in her house today all I could think of was whether she took a shit every
     morning

or ever fucked anybody
or ever fucked
herself

God's poet
singing herself to sleep

You want these sorts of things for people

Bodies and
the earth
and

the earth inside

Instead of white
nightgowns and terrifying
letters

*

Here she comes
her hands out in front of her
like a child flying
above its bed
at night

Her ankles and wrists held tightly between the fingers of some brightly lit parent home
     from a party

Flying

Her spine 
spinning

Singing     "Here I come!"

Her legs pumping
her heart 
out

*

Heaven is everywhere
but there's still
the world

The world is made out of cancer, house fires, and Brain Death, here in America

But I love the world

Emily Dickinson
to the rescue

I used to think we were made of bread
gentle work and 
water

We're not
but we're still beautiful
killing each other as much as we can
beneath the pines

The pines that are somebody's
masterpiece

—Michael Dickman

(Source: relativelysimple)

The strange thing is, I don’t think myself silent. That is because of my piano.

(Source: vega-ofthe-lyre)