Miles Redd’s own bedroom in his BEYOND FABULOUS West Village townhouse. Obviously. That pelmet canopy. Yes.

(via thisivyhouse)

I am often surprised when people talk about the total implausibility of the events in Márquez’s fiction. Having been born and lived in a deeply spiritual and extraordinarily resourceful part of the Caribbean, a lot of what might seem magical to others often seems quite plausible to me.

Of course a woman can live inside her cat, as the character Eva does in Márquez’s 1948 short story ‘Eva Is Inside Her Cat.’ Doesn’t everyone have an aunt who’s done that?

Edwidge Danticat remembers Gabriel García Márquez: (via newyorker)

(via newyorker)


Clip Brooch


Doyle Auctions


♔  Private home on the Left Bank PARIS



Cartier, 1935



Pâte-de-Verre “Samurai” Brooch




Ben Pentreath, photo by Jan Baldwin, via The Peak of Chic

(via curiousgraffiti)

“He always considered death an unavoidable professional hazard.”
Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel García Márquez (via artandcetera)
“She felt the abyss of disenchantment.”
Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera (via introspectivepoet)

(via introspectivepoet)


Rest in peace, Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

“If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.”

― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez (1927 - 2014)  (via notjustcookies)