"Sentí un grito infinito que atravesaba la naturaleza"
Recent Tweets @Checholalo
Posts I Like
Who I Follow


‘Hearts’: Collages by katworks-paints

Rita Pavone - ‘Se potessi amarti ancora’


Artworks by tattooista Cezilia Hjelt. Discovery via BlackDhalia.


Death above all! Works by Elias M. Aquino. Facebook.


Selected works by Brooklyn-based freelance illustrator Marcos Chin

Facebook | Behance | Instagram | Blogspot


Eduardo Mata Icaza born in Costa Rica in 1984 is an artist graduated from the School of Fine Arts in the University of Costa Rica. He currently lives and workes in Marseille, France.  Icaza’s paintings mixes realistic, anatomical images of the human body with abstract shapes lines and looks at ideas of humanity and existence has been shown in both solo and group exhibitions. 

(vía littlelimpstiff14u2)

'Ma dove vai bellezza in bicicletta' Silvana Pampanini

Bicycle restoration at Una Bici Labs

Eurovision 1965 - Ingvar Wixell - Absent friends

As it is, we are merely bolting our lives—gulping down undigested experiences as fast as we can stuff them in—because awareness of our own existence is so superficial and so narrow that nothing seems to us more boring than simple being. If I ask you what you did, saw, heard, smelled, touched and tasted yesterday, I am likely to get nothing more than the thin, sketchy outline of the few things that you noticed, and of those only what you thought worth remembering. Is it surprising that an existence so experienced seems so empty and bare that its hunger for an infinite future is insatiable? But suppose you could answer, “It would take me forever to tell you, and I am much too interested in what’s happening now.” How is it possible that a being with such sensitive jewels as the eyes, such enchanted musical instruments as the ears, and such a fabulous arabesque of nerves as the brain can experience itself as anything less than a god? And, when you consider that this incalculably subtle organism is inseparable from the still more marvelous patterns of its environment—from the minutest electrical designs to the whole company of the galaxies—how is it conceivable that this incarnation of all eternity can be bored with being?
'On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are', by Alan Watts