The Girl Who Listens To A Young Man's Song
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Oil and grime, poison sludge, diesel clouds and noxious muck. Slime beneath me, slime up above..
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Favourite Fashion: Alexander McQueen, Pre-Fall 2012f
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this girl literally destroys all other covers of let it go and she does it sitting down
Okay, I’ve never even seen Frozen, but I’ve heard Let It Go and this is actually fucking mindblowing.
If my linguistics background and language teaching training are reading this correctly, English is probably not this girl’s first language (though it’s possible that she is bilingual, just probably not from birth), because the /l/ phoneme was introduced to her later in life (or in a different way than it is in English)- you can hear it on certain words, like “girl”, where she struggles to blend the two phonemes, and other indicators of non-native fluency like moments where the cadence of a word or part of a phrase is audibly foreign to her, but she fucking nails the intonation of more than ninety percent of the song on top of belting it out from a goddamn chair.
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(Source: ruinedchildhood, via saverockandwho)
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(Source: ifitsnotforeveritsfortonight, via thisbeautifulrose)
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(Source: alombreda, via the-common-place)
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(Source: anglophilemeetsbibliophile, via curled-hair-red-lips)
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“Modern Retro” Ginta Lapina for H&M Spring 2013
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More Facts on Psychofacts :)
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(Source: earthyspirit, via glitterpagentpony)
For some, music is not just a pastime,
It’s an undeniable fact of living,
A blissful slavery of mind, body and soul.
To rise above the ashes of mediocrity is rare,
Yet the gift of song is freely handed out to anyone who cares to receive it,
Instantly shattering our daily drudgery.
The path to pursue more than the usual,
More than what is safe and known,
Is wrought with time-sharpened jagged blades that cut deep,
Blocking many from the road to something greater,
Beyond the stunted imagination of their peers.
Within the veins of the few,
Passion fills every sinew with a sweet unquenchable purpose,
Calming the fear of those treacherous paths,
Though every slice burns and bleeds,
Still they take each cut
And wear the scars with pride to signal their choice,
That undying pursuit of greater joy within every cord.
And so they say – Watch me bleed.