Not Quite The Minimalist.


"My time, the rank I attain, my outward appearance—all of these are secondary. For a runner like me, what’s really important is reaching the goal I set myself, under my own power. I give it everything I have, endure what needs enduring, and am able, in my own way, to be satisfied. From out of the failures and joys I always try to come away having grasped a concrete lesson. (It’s got to be concrete, no matter how small it is.) And I hope that, over time, as one race follows another, in the end I’ll reach a place I’m content with. Or maybe just catch a glimpse of it. (Yes, that’s a more appropriate way of putting it.)

Some day, if I have a gravestone and I’m able to pick out what’s carved on it, I’d like it to say this:

Haruki Murakami
1949 - 20**
Writer (and Runner)
At Least He Never Walked

At this point, that’s what I’d like it to say.”

— from What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

now available at BooksActually and our webstore !


Paris (by saigneurdeguerre)


That would definitely be me if I were a vet.

A good relationship is when two people accept each other’s past, support each other’s present, and love each other enough to encourage each other’s future. So don’t rush love. Find a partner who encourages you to grow, who won’t cling to you, who will let you go out into the world, and trust that you will come back. This is what true love is all about.
Unknown  (via fuckinq)



Robin Thicke - “Defined Lines”

A few students from my university created a Feminist critique of Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines through a pretty damn hilarious parody of the video. Hope you all enjoy :-)

"if you wanna get nasty
just don’t harass me
you can’t just grab me

History meme - CESARE BORGIA (1476-1507) was an Italian soldier and politician, younger son of Pope Alexander VI and an outstanding figure of the Italian Renaissance. Throughout his pontificate Alexander VI used his position to aggrandize his son and establish a papal empire in central Italy. Archbishop of Valencia and a cardinal by 1493, Cesare resigned the dignity after the death (1498) of his elder brother, the duke of Gandia, in whose murder he was probably involved. Cesare was the first person in history to resign from the cardinalate. He began his political career as papal legate to France. He struck an alliance with King Louis XII who made him duke of Valentinois, and married Charlotte d’Albret, a sister of the king of Navarre. The French having overrun Italy, Cesare, with his father’s encouragement, subdued the cities of the Romagna one by one. Made duke of Romagna by the pope, Cesare also seized Piombino, Elba, Camerino, and the duchy of Urbino, and he crowned his achievements by artfully luring his chief enemies to the castle of Senigallia, where he had some of them strangled. By killing his enemies, packing the college of cardinals, pushing his conquests as fast as possible, and buying the loyalty of the Roman gentry, he had hoped to make his position independent of the papacy, or at least to insure that the election of any future pope would be to his liking. But before his ambition could be fully realized, Cesare was struck in 1503 by the same poison/illness that suddenly killed his father. Cesare recovered; however, his political power had suffered a fatal blow. Pius III, after a short reign, was succeeded by Julius II (Giuliano della Rovere), an implacable enemy of the Borgias. Cesare was soon arrested and sent to prison in Spain, but he escaped and finally found refuge at the court of the king of Navarre in 1506. He died fighting for him at Viana on the 12th of March, 1507. Even though it was not his intention, Cesare was instrumental in the consolidation of the Papal States. He has long been considered the model of the Renaissance prince, the prototype of Niccolò Machiavelli’s Il Principe - intelligent, cruel, treacherous, ambitious and ruthlessly opportunistic.

Because he reads me poetry at night, and I am all the richer for it.

Your Laughter

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die. 

Pablo Neruda