evergreenwood:

another reason not to be cynical


f-l-e-u-r-d-e-l-y-s:

Liquid Sculptures: Powerful Waves Photographed by Pierre Carreau Seem Frozen in Time

Photographer Pierre Carreau was born in 1972 near Paris surrounded by a family of artists including a photographer, painter and sculptor, all of which would influence his creative upbringing as well as his artistic output. As a child he was always fascinated by the manifestation of waves and the diversity of color, shape, and size found in each of them. Some of his first photography projects involved work for surfing magazines and water sport equipment manufacturers.

Carreau’s work has now moved into fine art as he shoots waves with a variety of high speed cameras using various macro and wide angle lenses, capturing water shapes that appear more sculptural than liquid. These are truly some of the most remarkable wave photos I’ve ever seen and you can see many, many more over on his website. He also has a number of fine art prints available over at Clic Gallery

 on  

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nattykatt:

tumblr drawings - Buscar con Google on We Heart It - http://weheartit.com/entry/52600145/via/NattyKatt_

nattykatt:

tumblr drawings - Buscar con Google on We Heart It - http://weheartit.com/entry/52600145/via/NattyKatt_

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(via deliiriium)



“I’ve never wanted to grow up too fast. I wanted to wear a sports bra until I was 22!. The allure of being sexy never really held any excitement for me. I’ve never been in a terrible rush to be seen as a woman.” - Emma Watson | W Magazine June/July issue [2013]

I’ve never wanted to grow up too fast. I wanted to wear a sports bra until I was 22!. The allure of being sexy never really held any excitement for me. I’ve never been in a terrible rush to be seen as a woman.” - Emma Watson | W Magazine June/July issue [2013]

(via district-ninethreequarters)


He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretched myself out he began to play some low, dreamy, melodious air,—his own, no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for improvisation. I have a vague remembrance of his gaunt limbs, his earnest face, and the rise and fall of his bow. Then I seemed to be floated peacefully away upon a soft sea of sound, until I found myself in dream-land…

-(The Sign of Four)

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