Bibury, England (by jeremy..)
Holy shit, that’s funny.
George’s high pitched squeals are a bright light in a dark world.
Have I already reblogged this? Don’t know don’t care.
are you ever in the middle of saying something or showing someone something and you realize that literally no one cares
I’ve literally stopped talking mid-word in a story and no one has noticed.
like on the daily
Concept design for Water is Life
Chemist: Dr Theresa Dankovich
Biochemical Engineer: Corinne Clinch
Chief Creative Officer: Matt Eastwood
Executive Creative Director: Menno Kluin
Group Creative Director: Andrew McKechnie
Head of Design: Juan Carlos Pagan
Associate Creative Director: Sam Shepherd
Associate Creative Director: Frank Cartagena
Senior Designer: Brian Gartside
Designer: Aaron Stephenson
The Drinkable Book is a life saving tool that filters water and teaches proper sanitation & hygiene to those in the developing world.
Each book is printed on technologically advanced filter paper, capable of killing deadly waterborne diseases. And each page is coated with silver nanoparticles, whose ions actively kill diseases like cholera, typhoid and E. coli.
Once water is passed through the filter, bacteria count is reduced by over 99.99%, making the filtered water comparable to tap water in the United States of America.
The paper costs only pennies to produce, making it by far the cheapest option on the market. Each filter is capable of giving someone up to 30 days worth of clean water. And each book is capable of providing someone with clean water for up to 4 years.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.