(via dellbby)
(Source: itslikeatanktop, via wardrobefilledwith-shoes)
(Source: lifestudies, via wardrobefilledwith-shoes)
In northwestern Montana, the water is so transparent in this lake that it seems to be quite shallow.
When in fact, it’s very deep.
So. Cool.
(Source: niftyjaguar)
Hans Joachim Marseille (13 December 1919–30 September 1942) was a German pilot in the Luftwaffe during World War II and a flying ace. He was best known for his aerial battles during the North African campaign and his unique so-called “bohemian lifestyle”. Arguably one of the best fighter pilots of the Second World War, he was given the nickname of the “Star of Africa” and claimed all but seven of his 158 victories against the British Commonwealth’s Desert Air Force.
He reached the height of his fighter pilot career on 1 September 1942, when during the course of three sorties, he shot down 17 enemy fighters which earned him the Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords and Diamonds. However only 29 days later Marseille was killed in a flying accident when engine failure forced him to abandon his fighter. After he exited the cockpit, his chest struck the fins of his Messerschmitt. The impact against the fins either killed him instantly or incapacitated him to the point where he was unable to open his parachute. He was 23 years old.
Despite his early death in the war no other pilot ever claimed as many Western Allied pilots as he did.
I’m a hypocrite. I hate everyone for how much they hate other people. I hate people for being racists, sexists, and just bigots in general. I wish everyone was an atheist so religion was out of the picture and no one else would have to die for an imaginary god. I wish people would let other people live their lives and marry who they want, and do what they want. It’s not harming anyone else.
(Source: blogsecret)
ricp:
The Mother’s Hand by Antanas Sutkus (1966)
(via ceilingsplit)
(Source: arousable, via sleezyshit)
(Source: pbj4life, via sleezyshit)
(Source: andrewbreitel, via olivi-ver)
Sometimes when I miss you, I wear your shirt.
(Source: blogsecret)
(via titsmcdick)
I dont trust my new friends. Though I tell them juiciest secrets I have that I dont even dare to tell the friends that I trust.
(Source: whatwillhappentodayinmyhead)
I lose “friends” types everyday, I swear. and they swear we’re “friends” when they don’t know they’re just temporary acquaintances.
