Wanderers Welcome

: : . A . . H o m e . . f o r . . W a n d e r e r s . : :

118 notes &

books0977:

Saoirse Ronan reading surrounded by opulent, golden luxury. Bullett Magazine, Summer 2011. Photograph by Simon Proctor.
Saoirse Una Ronan (born 1994) is an Irish film actress. She began her career as a child and came to international prominence in 2007 after co-starring in the film Atonement, which gained her nominations for Best Supporting Actress in the Academy Awards, BAFTA and the Golden Globe.

books0977:

Saoirse Ronan reading surrounded by opulent, golden luxury. Bullett Magazine, Summer 2011. Photograph by Simon Proctor.

Saoirse Una Ronan (born 1994) is an Irish film actress. She began her career as a child and came to international prominence in 2007 after co-starring in the film Atonement, which gained her nominations for Best Supporting Actress in the Academy Awards, BAFTA and the Golden Globe.

(via womenreading)

Filed under books bookish antique actress photography clutter

322,391 notes &

randomingoftherandomness:

shubbabang:

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i dedicate this comic to the teacher who pulled me out of class in middle school to tell me my bra strap was showing and that i needed to get a jacket to cover it up so that i didnt distract the boys

dedicated to all teachers, school administrators, parents, dudes, dudettes, random ass strangers, politicians and dogs who think that is a woman’s duty to ensure that men aren’t ‘distracted’

Related: Contrary to popular belief, male behavior is not, in fact, ruled by sexual desires and/or hormones.
Acting as though it is excuses inhumane, abusive behavior towards women that too often places the blame on victims as opposed to their assailants.

(via feminspire)

Filed under feminism real talk sexism status quo patriarchy victim blaming reality check

83,916 notes &

freakofliterature:

nineteencallme:

dolorimeter:

woody allen, the irredeemable creep whose obvious misogyny was misinterpreted as creative genius by the college-boy mentality. 

    ~fionaapples

I’m so glad I’m not the only one IRATE about this

Thank you. It’s nice to have others who also think the dismissive comment about Plath and schoolgirl romanticism is ridiculous! These responses are golden.

(Source: mfjr, via books-and-sketches)

Filed under responses sylvia plath woody allen romanticism bullshit misogyny social criticism feminism artists

2 notes &

Pretentious paisley

A walking stereotype strolled into my bookish realm this morning in the form of a tall young man dressed in a pale, paisley-patterned shirt, left loosely untucked in what I’m sure he intended as fashionable negligence. 
Combing a hand through his hair every so often as he milled about the store, he snapped several Polaroids (yes, Polaroids— he was carrying an old camera around with him as well) of our cramped shelves before turning to his lady friend to ask her if she’d ever read any Kafka.
One of the unexpected benefits of studying abroad in England (no matter where you lived) is you slowly begin to recognize a forced accent when your hear one. And this guy, let me tell you, was clearly wringing all the hip Londoner he could out of his own, to the point where I could almost hear his vowels jarring together awkwardly like passengers on a too-crowded train.
His lady friend obviously seemed into the entire performance, though. So, eh— to each their own! 
After all, what is identity if not largely a performance, anyway?

—As seen at the bookstore
Pretentious paisley

A walking stereotype strolled into my bookish realm this morning in the form of a tall young man dressed in a pale, paisley-patterned shirt, left loosely untucked in what I’m sure he intended as fashionable negligence.
Combing a hand through his hair every so often as he milled about the store, he snapped several Polaroids (yes, Polaroids— he was carrying an old camera around with him as well) of our cramped shelves before turning to his lady friend to ask her if she’d ever read any Kafka.
One of the unexpected benefits of studying abroad in England (no matter where you lived) is you slowly begin to recognize a forced accent when your hear one. And this guy, let me tell you, was clearly wringing all the hip Londoner he could out of his own, to the point where I could almost hear his vowels jarring together awkwardly like passengers on a too-crowded train.
His lady friend obviously seemed into the entire performance, though. So, eh— to each their own!
After all, what is identity if not largely a performance, anyway?

As seen at the bookstore

Filed under people watching identity stereotypes Kafka literary performance musings observations snapshots bookstore days bookstore girl girlinthebookstore girlinthemargins my writing my photography character sketches