Protectorate and Circuit
vintagegal:

Part of the Easter parade on the South Side of Chicago, 1941- Russell Lee (via)

vintagegal:

Part of the Easter parade on the South Side of Chicago, 1941- Russell Lee (via)

fashionsfromhistory:

Cape
1880s
American or European
MET

fashionsfromhistory:

Cape

1880s

American or European

MET

fatalscroll:

Details of Fendi S/S 2015 RTW @ MFW

fatalscroll:

Details of Fendi S/S 2015 RTW @ MFW

vickisigh:

u say u suffering? seyiku is still on da way.

vickisigh:

u say u suffering? seyiku is still on da way.

‘This was just a friendly warning,’ said Sister Mary Charles. She glanced out the window and Sylvia glanced after her. Walking down the street from one direction was a family she recognised. From the other direction a man in a brown suit with pushed-up blond hair came. ‘There he is. I should probably get going.’ This didn’t please Sylvia much.
Sylvia tried to calm her nerves by reciting the Creed to herself but by the time she got to ‘His only Son our Lord’ Sister Mary Charles was out and the blond C.I.A. man was in. She tried humming something or other by Glenn Miller as he walked up to her table, but she wasn’t in the mood. It just made her think of happy times with Emily. Now that was what you’d call perverse.
‘Hey, missy,’ he said, in an affected, gilded tone. ‘Mind if I sit myself down?’
‘Go ahead,’ she said. She hoped she sounded just as insincere, she really did.
He sat down, took off his hat and coat, and pushed his chair back. Its legs squeaked loudly against the linoleum. ‘Hello, Miss Zucco.’ His tone was not affected any more, and sounded what Emily might call uncouth. It was rough and didn’t sound like he wanted to be here. ‘My name is Daniel.’
‘Hello, Daniel.’
‘I work for the Central Intelligence Agency.’ Sylvia feigned surprise as best she could. ‘I’ve been given the task of coming to terms with Coeli Porta, since current C.I.A. conventional wisdom is that this has gone on long enough—that there is no fundamental reason why this should go on any longer—and that with the Russkies emboldened and Maureen Tucker inching herself back into politics from the other side of the world it’s time to end this charade and circle the wagons already.’ With each point he shot out a finger from a loose fist held before him, so that in the end only his thumb and pinkie were curled over the sides of his palm. His ring finger wasn’t fully extended but instead pointed lazily and crookedly upward. They said that was the hardest finger to move on its own, and when Sylvia had been bored once she’d done some exercises and worked out for herself that it was true.
‘I’ve worked with Maureen Tucker,’ said Sylvia.
‘We know that good and well. That is why I wanted to talk to you first. I am well aware of the boon that some of your work with her promises to be for the people of southern Mexico.’
Sylvia decided to take it as a compliment. ‘Maureen Tucker was my friend.’ She lit another Strike and threw the old one up into an ashtray on the windowsill. At this point it didn’t matter what had become or might have become of that friendship. It was true, and for Daniel—whoever this Daniel was—it was a challenge. The look on his face made her regret saying it; she tramped that regret down. As soon as it was gone she decided she’d double down. ‘Agent—can I get a last name?’ she asked.
‘Ortberg.’ It didn’t sound made-up, but then again neither had ‘Bruce Thompson’ way back when, so what did she know.
‘Agent Ortberg, if we all coöperate, is it possible that Miss Tucker could come home?’ Obviously no chance but she wanted to see how he’d react.
‘By all means,’ he said. ‘International law is what we make of it.’
Well, that was certainly interesting. ‘Can you answer a question that’s been bothering me,’ Sylvia asked, ‘purely as a show of good faith?’
‘Go ahead.’ He didn’t look thrilled that she’d asked and she was sure that would continue.
‘You say ‘international law is what we make of it’. Is that why the government could strip her of her citizenship, even though you’re not supposed to render folks stateless?’
‘Yes,’ he said. He said nothing more. He looked uncomfortable, and Sylvia felt nothing so much as an odd and indulgent remorse.
‘Is that all you’re going to say about that?’ she asked.
‘Yes, unless you’re interested in pressing the issue.’ She shook her head; the smoke around her roiled. ‘Good. I’ll bet you don’t want to be here any more than I do, after all.’
‘Actually, I love visiting my mother at work. But I know what you mean.’
Portal of the Sky, Part III, Chapter 4.
Reminder that Turandot did nothing wrong. uwu♪
communicants:

Ozu and cats forever.

communicants:

Ozu and cats forever.

drawingguitarist:

Give your cat the  F L O A T I N G     J U D G E M E N T     B O X     to allow them to stare at your half finished work from afar

drawingguitarist:

Give your cat the  F L O A T I N G     J U D G E M E N T     B O X     to allow them to stare at your half finished work from afar

Tatiana Maslany + Makeup

gallifrey-feels:

anostalgicnerd:

In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines…

no you don’t get it

this was my childhood