We watched a 35mm print of Pulp Fiction in the theatre last night - all scratched up and skipping, like seeing it in a Grindhouse cinema. Feels like I experienced it the way it was intended to be seen.
We watched a 35mm print of Pulp Fiction in the theatre last night - all scratched up and skipping, like seeing it in a Grindhouse cinema. Feels like I experienced it the way it was intended to be seen.
Oh Thomas ♥
Joan Crawford in Our Dancing Daughters, 1928.
(Source: taniadoeslittle, via itsgirlgerm)
(Source: pinupenigma, via itsgirlgerm)
(Source: gingermangrint, via nelum)
(Source: misshamlinxo, via kittyskeeze)
Mosh for Coffin Case
(via emilynoel)
(via kittyskeeze)
She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood. She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.
– Neil Gaiman (via venebelle)
(via vintagevandalizm)