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hi there! my name's kristina, i'm 18 years old. i live in the late 70s, mostly in 1976 or 1977, and occasionally in the mid-80s too. I adore david bowie but also love andy warhol, blondie, iggy pop and tv shows such as the golden girls, the cosby show, freaks and geeks, twin peaks. most importantly, i love the 70s and 80s.
hollybailey: When Joanne Wilson stepped out to enjoy a balmy summer afternoon with her niece in 1956, she stepped into history. The two stood in front of a movie theater in downtown Mobile, Ala., dressed in their Sunday best. But the neon sign that loomed overhead — “Colored Entrance” — cast a despairing shadow. “I wasn’t going in,” Mrs. Wilson recalled. “I didn’t want to take my niece through the back entrance. She smelled popcorn and wanted some. All I could think was where I could go to get her popcorn.” That moment was captured by Gordon Parks, who was working on a Life photo essay that documented everyday life among an extended African-American family in the rural South. Although it was not among the final selections published in September 1956 as “The Restraints: Open and Hidden,” the photograph of Mrs. Wilson and her niece, Shirley Diane Kirksey, is among the most compelling of the project. We usually associate civil rights photography with dramatic scenes of historic events. But this image helps us to understand that the battle for racial equality and justice was waged not just through epic demonstrations, speeches and conflagrations, but also through the quiet actions of individuals. The woman in a Jim Crow photo (via Lens)
Clint Eastwood makes a fan’s life by giving her a kiss while in Durango, Mexico, 1969.  Photographed by Lawrence Schiller.
❝
That humanity at large will ever be able to dispense with Artificial Paradises seems very unlikely. Most men and women lead lives at the worst so painful, at the best so monotonous, poor and limited that the urge to escape, the longing to transcend themselves if only for a few moments, is and has always been one of the principal appetites of the soul.
- Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception  (via dandymackay)

(Source: exposedsilently)
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