Craftingrovingrambler - Thoughts Like Forests

i dont consider myself a 'fashion guru' by any means but one thing i will say is guys you dont need to know the specific brand an item you like is - you need to know what the item is called. very rarely does a brand matter, but knowing that pair of pants is called 'cargo' vs 'boot cut' or the names of dress styles is going to help you find clothes you like WAAAYYYY faster than brand shopping

(via the author, at the Ex Bird place)

I went for a walk in a privately owned forest today and realized that forests and groves in Scandinavia are symbolic of how our society works.

When I try to explain to foreigners that our society is part capitalist and part socialist they don’t get it because in their eyes the two shall never meet but I don’t think it’s that hard to understand.

Thanks to capitalism you can amass wealth and own fancy cars and a mansion with a forest but you can’t get as wealthy as in other countries like China or the US because the richer you get the more taxes you have to pay so thanks to socialism Scandinavians can’t be as poor as people in those other countries either.

I grew up poor by Danish standards but that just meant I couldn’t have fancy clothes or go on vacations and I have many memories of sitting with my little fingers on the radiator during winter because I was cold and my parents couldn’t afford to turn up the heat but I never went hungry or with holes in my shoes. I didn’t even understand that I grew up poor until I was an adult and compared childhood memories with my friends. The only people I’ve met who were poorer than me were those who had a serious drug or alcohol addiction.

And that’s why forest and groves are symbolic of that. You can be rich and own a forest but thanks to Scandinavian Right to Roam laws you have to share your forest with the public because land is wealth and you can’t hoard it like an old dragon.

the lover’s almanac : part one.

Golden Hour by Damian Cyfka

“A traveller I am, and a navigator, and everyday I discover a new region within my soul.”

Khalil Gibran

Hilda by Duane Bryers

I have been ripped from the life I was building for myself once again. The dreams, the places I was getting to know, the people I was meeting, the future I was walking towards are gone.

My own body is fighting me. And my brain often times does not work. Without my brain, and ideas and dreams, who am I?

For my mother always described me as a Tsunami. Try to stop a Tsunami, is how she'd describe me when I'd had an idea. These days I feel like little more than a puddle.

These days are also the days that I unexpectedly get to spend months with my family. I get to go to my brother's graduation. I'm not halfway across the continent.

These days I get to enjoy my mother's cooking. I get to tell her more about out who I've become. And I find out about her.

These days my father, who has never been good with words, and who never actually wanted children, offers to pay for my motorcycle license once I feel better. If it helps, he says, I'll gladly pay for it.

These days, when my legs shake and I can suddenly barely walk, my dad will grab me. Hold me up. And pretend to dance with me through the living room.

These days I will be laughing so hard I cry. Instead of bawling my eyes out.

I do that too, sometimes. Because it's. Not. Fair.

But these days, and these moments would've never happened were I not sick.

It'll get better. And even if it doesn't, I can still make a happy life for myself

The excitement at finally living close to mountains soon

a burst of color, part five

a burst of color, part one

flowers on the mountain, part two

flowers on the mountain, part four

flowers on the mountain, part five

flowers on the mountain, part three

by Danielle Nelson

by marina weishaupt (500px / flickr / instagram)