I MAY THROW UP ON YOU

Don't pander to me, kid. One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds. Solar flare might crop up, cook us in our seats. And wait till you're sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles, see if you're still so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding.

Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.

Posted on Thursday, 10 December 2009

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posted 2 years ago

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inspired by the work of SAUL BASS, ART GOODMAN and DAVE NAGATA.
hitchcock typeface by MATT TERICH. tumblr theme by MATTHEW BUCHANAN.