The Parish of Space Dust

My god it's so perverted, to call yourself a legend, ‘cause I never met a hero, who would leave you in the trenches.

[wnq-writers]

I am not the roar of the thunder, Or the church bells ringing on a wedding day, Or the sirens of an ambulance. I am the white noise, The static of an old radio you always listen to, The sound of your lover’s heartbeat. I am invisible, unless you pay attention.

Vanessa Sheathes (Sheathes Poetry)

[homonsters]

[funnymalemodels]

[smittenstephen]

[justdropithere]

[mannequin-homme-blog]

[calichele]

[ragdan]

[damplaundry]

[phones]

[woyyor-deactivated20170102]

your energy introduces you before you even speak.

(via jaycezheng)

[visualartservices]

Young King New Castle by PETER DE POTTER

[stoicremains-deactivated2017102]

She had a passionate longing for the garden, the darkness, the pure sky, the stars.

Anton Chekhov, “After the Theatre”  (via ladypekinpack)

[d-entelle]

[redzenradish-photography]

[chiaradr]

[crewneck-deactivated20241203]