Stay close to anything that makes you glad you are alive.
Hafiz (via loveyourchaos)
(via psych-facts)
adinda smaradhana r - smalane - mahasiswa arsitektur - kaskuser - penghobi fotografi dan buku - indonesia
Stay close to anything that makes you glad you are alive.
(via psych-facts)
Hidup dan nasib bisa tampak berantakan, misterius, fantastis dan sporadis namun setiap elemennya adalah subsistem keteraturan dari sebuah desain holistik yang sempurna. Menerima kehidupan berarti menerima kenyataan bahwa tidak ada hal sekecil apa pun yang terjadi karena kebetulan
Ada tulisan yang bagus dari seorang mahasiswa ITS Surabaya tentang ITB. Menarik juga untuk mengetahui bagaimana pandangan orang luar tentang ITB dan bagaimana ia membandingkan ITB dengan institusi …
Ayo bagi penggemar fotografi, ikutan yuk :) #archproject2013
(via loverdistrict)
Teaser 1 - Archproject 2013
Seperti saya, kamu berbeda. Seperti kamu, saya pun normal
Jangan pernah sekali-kali merendahkan standard diri kamu terhadap apapun. Standard diri kamu bukan teman yang terpintar di kelompokmu, bukan orang terhebat di keluargamu, bukan orang tersoleh di lingkunganmu. Ada begitu banyak orang di luar sana yang jauh lebih baik dari orang-orang yang kamu kenal saat ini. Kerahkan potensi dirimu sampai batas yang bahkan kamu tidak bisa membayangkannya.
Dan, saya, sialnya, jatuh cinta kepada Indonesia. Berkali-kali.
People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living memory of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in the ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic…. Do they sense it, these dead writers, when their books are read? Does a pinprick of light appear in their darkness? Is their soul stirred by the feather touch of another mind reading theirs? I do hope so.
(via fuckyeahreading)