Bidermanas was born in Lithuania, but in 1931, fleeing poverty, he arrived in the city he was to make his own: Paris. He loved touring Paris on foot, especially the working-class districts, and he photographed wherever he went. The poetry of his own vision, and his portraits of fellow creative intellects, made him the quintessential chronicler of the post-war capital - from its very stones to the heights of its cultural life. (+)
Bette Davis’ bloopers
Sometimes you need to burn bridges to stop yourself from crossing them again.
- (via corruptedyouth)
Recep Tayyip ve saz arkadaşları
So this was how you died, in whispers that you did not hear.
- Ernest Hemingway, “The Snows of Kilimanjaro”, The Complete Short Stories (via stxxz)
Leonard Nimoy Reveals Lung Disease Diagnosis, Urges Fans To Quit Smoking
Oh no. ;_; Oh no, oh no. My heart hurts.
…then I figured out what “LLAP” meant, and I had another surge of pain. Oh gosh.
oh no. :(
Ugh I can’t wait to get my e-cig
(Source: The Huffington Post)
Sometime in 1948 I began photographing portraits in a small corner space made of two studio flats pushed together, the floor covered with a piece of old carpeting…this confinement, surprisingly seemed to comfort people, soothing them. The walls were a surface to lean on or push against. For me the picture possibilities were interesting; limiting the subjects movements seemed to relieve me of part of the problem of holding onto them. — Irving Penn