I didn’t need to “make peace” with my past.
I needed to move on from it.
Maybe, in some ways, those are the same things, but to me, they felt completely different. “Making peace” with my past was about lingering on it, mulling over it, seeking approval (from myself and from others) in spite of it, obsessing over the details, again and again, until I could figure out an explanation. - source
Turns out answering a text message with impressive immediacy is not as impressive as maintaining engagement — real engagement — in the conversation looking at you. - Man Repeller
Newly obsessed with this illustrator & saving these to make up a gallery wall in my new apartment.
We had no idea what the future held for us in that big, bustling, intimidating city. We knew only that whatever it was, we would make it ours and revel in it, bathe ourselves in its neon, rub ourselves raw on its cobblestones, polish ourselves in our reflections in its store windows. We were young, we were new, we were the red blood cells the body of the city needed to flow in the circulatory system of its future. Without us, the city would wither and wrinkle and get old. With us, New York remained forever young. - NY Times
Officially need this print for my next apartment.
—Rick Owens in the October 2013 Harper’s Bazar