#balloon furniture

[skitzomoondog]

[jttlpgroup]

5512 Amber 🐞 @wiseamber

[ourladyofomega]

🖌️+ 📸: @cheersjack (IG) + @urbnpostermockup + Florian Klauer

[killuaisaprincess]

WHY ARENT THERE ANY BALLOONS IN POCKET CAMP OMG I NEED KI TO HAVE A PINK BUNNY ONE

[avant-greendecor]

Desk & Descent: Grand Canyon Adventures in Home Office Glory

Visit my website for more inspiration 🌿

Embark on a journey of rustic refinement and grand canyon allure in this workspace haven, where dark aesthetics and soaring vistas converge for an office adventure like no other.

[strathshepard]

Bella Hadid by Sam Rock, i-D Magazine

[caly-pso]

☆ Seungjin Yang was born and raised in Korea and attended Hongik university. Yang started his series, pictured above, called “blowing series” out of his pure interest of balloons. In this collection you see bright playful colors intertwined with the voluminous puffy shapes of a typical balloon. Read and see more of Seungjins work here:

[nervous-objects]

[enbiansunburst]

feeling gross and sick and all i want is to take the celebration castle off the shelf and take pictures of my little plastic horses but noooOOoo that would defeat the point of resting in bed ://

[the-busy-ghost]

Upstairs flooring is finally supposed to be finished today but given the Shenanigans which have attended every single attempt at home improvement over the last two months, I don’t want to get my hopes up.

However, I am letting myself browse antique chairs as a treat- not to buy, just because I have a borderline unhealthy obsession with chair design right now

[annahho]

balloon chairs by Seungjin Yang

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[wickedghxst]

the birthday party in nh is cute & all but birthday Furniture has gotta be the lamest gift villagers could possibly ever give you….

[pukicho]

What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?

Pukicho story time???

This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:

It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.

I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.

I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.

Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.

It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.

At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.

At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.

The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.

No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.

End!!

[jaygaeze]

[avant-greendecor]

Desk & Descent: Grand Canyon Adventures in Home Office Glory

Visit my website for more inspiration 🌿

Embark on a journey of vintage refinement and grand canyon allure in this workspace haven, where dark aesthetics and soaring vistas converge for an office adventure like no other.