
cwnl:
Vesicles of The Neuron
A colorized scanning EM of a nerve broken open to reveal the vesicles containing the neurotransmitters.
Image Credit: NIH, via Curiosity/Discovery, via Sloth Unleashed
(Source: ikenbot, via neuroimages)

cwnl:
Vesicles of The Neuron
A colorized scanning EM of a nerve broken open to reveal the vesicles containing the neurotransmitters.
Image Credit: NIH, via Curiosity/Discovery, via Sloth Unleashed
(Source: ikenbot, via neuroimages)
(via tearsstreamdownmyface)
(Source: lastsundaynight, via islamicthinking)
Reservoir Birds
(via juliasegal)
Word.
Cross stitch I just finished.
Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky. We fell them down and turn them into paper, that we may record our emptiness.
Just a little experiment. The music in the background is “I Giorni” by Ludovico Einaudi
We are dust in the cosmos, insignificant, weird creatures indulging in exotic quests; quests so ambitious, sometimes, introspection reveals them to be bordering on the ridiculous. Even so, we have ambition, that elixir of existence which makes it possible for our strange community to coexist. We are little beings with stout hearts, we are a part of the universe yearning to learn about the universe. We are a collection of atoms, insignificant, yet combining together to make much more as a whole than just the sum of the parts. We are the physical manifestations of that intangible truth, the soul. Individually, we strive to connect to the whole. Collectively, we search for individuals to emulate. We evolve mentally, not as apes, but as a pool of neurons that continues to diversify with each new jolt of truth discovered about the universe, that sends ripples down the centre of that pool. Even so, we are not sure about these thoughts, because we are incapable of knowing any truth to a degree of total accuracy. We make our livelihoods on approximations, and somehow are content and assured that we are always just one step away from finding the key to unlock all secrets of the universe. And inspite of all this, we are microorganisms in the life of the cosmos, parasites in Gaia, sucking the blood of the world, deluded to think that the planet is our possession. And yet, Providence keeps giving us undeserving creatures a chance to make it right. Will we learn?
Bougainvillea. My mother loves them.