Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, vol. IV: 1944-1947
Noah Kahan
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d e v o n
$LAYYYTER
No title available
YOU ARE THE REASON
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Kiana Khansmith
Sweet Seals For You, Always
EXPECTATIONS
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
No title available
Phantogram Three
art blog(derogatory)

Game Changer & Make Some Noise
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

tannertan36

Love Begins
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@juliedelpysringtone
Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, vol. IV: 1944-1947
Patricia Highsmith, Her Diaries and Notebooks: 1941-1995
BAD NEWS: it will not be the same forever
GOOD NEWS: it will not be the same forever
[no title]
2003
Prayer
by Jorie Graham
Over a dock railing, I watch the minnows, thousands, swirl themselves, each a minuscule muscle, but also, without the way to create current, making of their unison (turning, re- infolding, entering and exiting their own unison in unison) making of themselves a visual current, one that cannot freight or sway by minutest fractions the water’s downdrafts and upswirls, the dockside cycles of finally-arriving boat-wakes, there where they hit deeper resistance, water that seems to burst into itself (it has those layers), a real current though mostly invisible sending into the visible (minnows) arrowing motion that forces change — this is freedom. This is the force of faith. Nobody gets what they want. Never again are you the same. The longing is to be pure. What you get is to be changed. More and more by each glistening minute, through which infinity threads itself, also oblivion, of course, the aftershocks of something at sea. Here, hands full of sand, letting it sift through in the wind, I look in and say take this, this is what I have saved, take this, hurry. And if I listen now? Listen, I was not saying anything. It was only something I did. I could not choose words. I am free to go. I cannot of course come back. Not to this. Never. It is a ghost posed on my lips. Here: never.
Anne de Marcken, It Lasts Forever and Then It’s Over
from let July be July by Morgan Harper Nichols
i wish you could smell these photos
Architecture Wave
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