Aww, little baby 10gs

Aww, little baby 10gs

Tags: plug

(Source: teknari, via iamboundtowin)

celluloidtoharddrives:

Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving)

The Matrix (1999) Written and Directed by Andy and Lana Wachowski

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(Source: nove-mbre, via iamboundtowin)

(Source: notalkingplz, via jessecaits)

""Good judgment comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgment." - Bob Packwood"

— (via bxxxtreme)

(Source: free-love-psychic, via iamboundtowin)


“We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infinitesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future. We have no present. Our consciousness is almost completely preoccupied with memory and expectation. We do not realize that there never was, is, nor will be any other experience than present experience. We are therefore out of touch with reality. We confuse the world as talked about, described, and measured with the world which actually is. We are sick with a fascination for the useful tools of names and numbers, of symbols, signs, conceptions and ideas.”
-Alan Watts


“We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infinitesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future. We have no present. Our consciousness is almost completely preoccupied with memory and expectation. We do not realize that there never was, is, nor will be any other experience than present experience. We are therefore out of touch with reality. We confuse the world as talked about, described, and measured with the world which actually is. We are sick with a fascination for the useful tools of names and numbers, of symbols, signs, conceptions and ideas.”

-Alan Watts

(Source: illuminatizeitgeist, via persephonepirate)

fightingforanimals:

Sometimes your life changes overnight and in a sudden and unexpected way. Your freedom, that natural right which we are all gifted with when we are born into this world, that treasure which is the most valuable thing we possess, together with life itself, can be treacherously stolen from you in a vile way.
Look into my eyes. What you see is fear. Pure terror, and sadness too. I cannot even recall how I got to this situation. I am surrounded by people, I see faces, hundreds of eyes staring at me. I can smell adrenaline; the roaring of a thousand excited voices, that makes me sweat and tremble in fear. I also feel the panic of my mates and we get together, perhaps we might be able to protect one another this way.But we do not attack, we do not kill, we do not know how to do that. Our horns were made to bring a fast solution to small quarrels among our groups and to defend ourselves in case of need. We do not have violence running down our veins and we reject confrontation. We are peaceful.That is the reason why I run. I run in desperation, along the streets, trying to get away from the harassment and the blows inflicted to us by the public. I imagine the countryside, the soft grass being gently rocked by the wind, and the silence…the smell of lavender in the air and the tickles caused by some ants walking up my legs. And I try to find a way out and back to that place.But they hit me, I am cornered by the mob, people are running behind me, at both of my sides and before me, they are everywhere, they are in my way and I am blinded by those colours: red and white. I can not control my body and I fall down. Something cracks inside my body and my skin is torn. There is blood coming out. My own blood. I try to ignore the pain, but I must run faster, with more strength.I run along the streets, growling, crying. My mouth is foaming and my whole body starts to collapse. With every metre my feet cover, I am losing my hope. I try to get people out of my way by doing the only thing I can do: moving my head here and there in panic.I arrive at the bullfighting ring, the place where all tortures end. All this previous suffering has only been the beginning. The mob is waiting for me and their laughter and applauses are a bad omen for me.I can feel I am facing the end of my life.I barely have any strengh to fight back.My fate has been sealed.I am a bull and I am already dead.Express your rejection for the torture and massacre inflicted to the bulls of San Fermin.We will never give up fighting for them. (X)

fightingforanimals:

Sometimes your life changes overnight and in a sudden and unexpected way. Your freedom, that natural right which we are all gifted with when we are born into this world, that treasure which is the most valuable thing we possess, together with life itself, can be treacherously stolen from you in a vile way.

Look into my eyes. What you see is fear. Pure terror, and sadness too. I cannot even recall how I got to this situation. I am surrounded by people, I see faces, hundreds of eyes staring at me. I can smell adrenaline; the roaring of a thousand excited voices, that makes me sweat and tremble in fear. I also feel the panic of my mates and we get together, perhaps we might be able to protect one another this way.

But we do not attack, we do not kill, we do not know how to do that. Our horns were made to bring a fast solution to small quarrels among our groups and to defend ourselves in case of need. We do not have violence running down our veins and we reject confrontation. We are peaceful.

That is the reason why I run. I run in desperation, along the streets, trying to get away from the harassment and the blows inflicted to us by the public. I imagine the countryside, the soft grass being gently rocked by the wind, and the silence…the smell of lavender in the air and the tickles caused by some ants walking up my legs. And I try to find a way out and back to that place.

But they hit me, I am cornered by the mob, people are running behind me, at both of my sides and before me, they are everywhere, they are in my way and I am blinded by those colours: red and white. I can not control my body and I fall down. Something cracks inside my body and my skin is torn. There is blood coming out. My own blood. I try to ignore the pain, but I must run faster, with more strength.

I run along the streets, growling, crying. My mouth is foaming and my whole body starts to collapse. With every metre my feet cover, I am losing my hope. I try to get people out of my way by doing the only thing I can do: moving my head here and there in panic.

I arrive at the bullfighting ring, the place where all tortures end. All this previous suffering has only been the beginning. The mob is waiting for me and their laughter and applauses are a bad omen for me.

I can feel I am facing the end of my life.
I barely have any strengh to fight back.
My fate has been sealed.

I am a bull and I am already dead.

Express your rejection for the torture and massacre inflicted to the bulls of San Fermin.

We will never give up fighting for them. (X)

(via persephonepirate)

(Source: hollowtronix, via parafractal)

im-not-a-climbing-frame:

kristyjacobo:

Forever reblogging this.

And the fact that there’s more than one company means several people called makes it even better.

(Source: theclearlydope, via wealthy-richard)