amy hunt

[birdasaurus]

[pagewoman]

When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in it in great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad; and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one’s ramble was over, and slippered feet were propped on the fender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries.

Kenneth Grahame - The Wind in the Willows

[alecsgrg]

[01101010010101-10101001010110-d]

[reefmagazine-deactivated2023020]

[drachenengel]

[morningeggs]

[artamanen]

[birdasaurus]

Nastassia Bruckin

[toothpastelove]

[amormedarei-deactivated20200116]

🌾

[teachersgazebo-deactivated20200]

All these soft, warm nights going to waste when I ought to be lying in your arms under the moon.

Zelda Fitzgerald, in a letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald

[delta-breezes]

[delta-breezes]

Christoffer Collin | @wisslaren

[grace--upon--grace]

Magnus Dovlind

[grayskymorning]

Forest Bound

[elvedon]

The winter where January snagged my ribs. The one where I celebrate a different anniversary, the kind that makes a crunching sound as it leaves. Today I am breaking. I am crawling into the ache. Each morning I still build my bones from the mismatched knives that are in the kitchen. Did you know? How I pluck my pulse, how if I stare long enough into the mirror I can see someone else who is brave.

Ana Carrizo, “Today I Am Breaking.” (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)