historical-nonfiction: A boy peeping through the Berlin Wall.
Wit of London For those interested in reading up on my study abroad at UCL in London from Sept. 2010-Dec. 2010
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(pictured: Marrakech, Morocco)
“In 1964, Moravian-born American writer, architect, designer, collector, educator, designer, and social historian Bernard Rudofsky examined a whole other side of architecture in Architecture Without Architects: A Short Introduction to Non-Pedigreed Architecture - a fascinating lens on ‘primitive’ and communal architecture, exploring both its functional value and its artistic richness, with a focus on indigenous tribal structures and ancient dwellings. Rudofsky peels the pretense of architecture from the creative and utilitarian acts of building to reveal and kind of vernacular, communal architecture embodying a timeless art form that springs from the the intersection of human intelligence, necessity, and collective creativity.
I believe that sensory pleasure should take precedence over intellectual pleasure in art and architecture. - Bernard Rudofsky.”
“Despite being one of France’s most decorated leaders, there is no national museum dedicated to Napoleon and Mr. [Yves] Jego said he hopes that [the theme park] will help the military leader retain his place in the French national conciousness.”
— Verlyn Klinkenborg, “The Whirling Sound of Planet Dickens” (via planb-becomeapirate)
(via ectetcetera)
This is definitely how I used to eat citrus fruits. It would take me FOREVER.
(Source: yourbiggestflan, via doublefifths)
I’m pretty sure I’d reblog anything with a Watch the Throne crossover. Including Home Alone.
(Source: lolrap)
Jack the Ripper Autobiography.
This History.com article
Written in the 1920s and rediscovered in 2008, a first-person account of what may be the most legendary cold case in history was published today as “The Autobiography of Jack the Ripper.” Its author, whose identity remains a mystery, presents himself as the eponymous serial killer who butchered at least five women in London’s Whitechapel district during the fall of 1888. Has “James Carnac”—who dedicated his manuscript to “the retired members of the Metropolitan Police Force in spite of whose energy and efficiency I have lived to write this book”—finally confessed to his crimes?