We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright.
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (via wordsnquotes)
Mike Driver

izzy's playlists!
Xuebing Du
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Origami Around

Kiana Khansmith
🪼
Peter Solarz

Andulka
sheepfilms

#extradirty
Monterey Bay Aquarium
tumblr dot com
Sweet Seals For You, Always
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
styofa doing anything
todays bird
YOU ARE THE REASON
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

if i look back, i am lost

seen from Malaysia
seen from Paraguay
seen from Paraguay

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@laurelbrynn
We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright.
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (via wordsnquotes)
I packed a lot into the span of a few weeks. A long trip, my life into boxes. I was employed, unemployed, and now Sitting on a job offer.
I deleted your time zone out of my clocks during the middle of the flight In an attempt to excise you from my life. I then preceded to watch Mad Max Somewhere over the Atlantic because you asked me once if we might watch it together. You forgot this fact. I did not.
My memory has a way of punishing me.
I’m sentimental And I’m trying to figure out if that’s good Or if it’s bad But I think sometimes the questions I have about myself and for myself Are wrong.
There are so many goodbyes I am not equipped to say.
I’m trying to figure that out.
The first time I ever knew I'd be okay without you was when I could hear it in the tone of the words I'd written to describe the way I missed you and the routines that came with being yours. The leaving part was truly the bravest thing I'd ever done. With all things, there is certainty in staying. Staying put, comfortable, the same. Ultimately I left because I didn't recognize the person I became between weekends at the lake and wanting you to love me. I'm on the eve of a bolder leaving part. This time a place. Again abandoning routines. Routines I've solely curated, mastered, loved, and hated. I wonder what I will find in the words I write after I've gone.
I went on a date last night and then you texted and asked, again, whether I would come there. Start our days with coffee, end with you making dinner. Forever. I feel myself tug towards yes and then I remember why it will always be no with you and I.
There are people in your life who are going to love you for all of the wrong reasons. They will love you for the best part of your face, the best part of you naked, the best mood on your best day, the best story you ever wrote, the best outfit you ever wore.
They are going to miss the scar on the underside of your nose from the time your older brothers dared you to run across a pile of logs. They won’t know that you fell on a hidden nail just as you completed the challenge. They’ll miss the scar on your finger, too from the time you were seven and closed a swiss army knife on it. They won’t understand that these are two of only a handful of things you can remember about your childhood. They’ll notice that you have great tits, but they’ll miss that your thumb tucks into their palm when you’re walking together and that your eyes have darker circles when a migraine is coming. They won’t know you get migraines. They won’t ask where the story you wrote came from, so they’ll never know that it was true. They’ll love it because it feels real to them. They’ll miss knowing the sweatshirt full of holes that they criticized you for wearing was your dads. You might tell them some of these things along the way, but they will remember the best things instead.
They will love your good moods, your energy, your sense of humor, but miss that you never turn to them, but rather to a shower or a pillow or the back of your throat to shed tears. They won’t ever consider you strong.
When the parts that aren’t your best come out, some people will shield their eyes as if you have just forced them to look directly into the sun for hours until their irises burn. They’ll silently make you promise to never show them that again. Those things are not to be shown. Be at your best so I can love you. I would love you more if only you never show me those things.
And you do not marry those people. You do not sit and sleepily drink coffee with those people. You leave those people and you remind yourself that they missed the better parts of you.
It has been years since I wrote this, but I still feel the same.
I loved this piece of writing from the first moment I read it years ago. I still feel the same.
Thoughts on sleep
I’ve been falling asleep with the lights on. It’s not because I’m afraid of the dark. It is partially because I’m lazy.
I talked to you the other day about relationships and commitment. I worried about my revisited hobby of sleeping with all the lights on. “I can’t even commit to going to bed.”
I’m not sure why I’ve been doing this. I think it’s rooted in post-work exhaustion and the underlying stress and uncertainty that comes with completely changing your life.
What I mean to say is this: I don’t really know if this correlates with my inability to truly commit and invest, but I’ve started focusing on just turning the lights off anyways.
Joan Didion & Sloane Crosley
These two wonderful essayists joined LIVE from the NYPL on Monday. If you missed it, check out the interview online. C'mon, it’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving - you’re not really working, are you?
Here’s the link: http://fora.tv/2011/11/21/Joan_Didion_in_Conversation_with_Sloane_Crosley
Collect books, even if you don’t plan on reading them right away. Nothing is more important than an unread library.
John Waters (via tattooedarm)
I’ll tell you about it if I ever get it straight in my head.
Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (via wordsnquotes)
sillage
(noun) A rare word, originated from France, sillage is described as a trail or essence left behind, particularly from the lingering smell of perfume in the air. (via wordsnquotes)
You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.
Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
Memory is the most important asset of human beings. It’s a kind of fuel; it burns and it warms you.
Haruki Murakami (via observando)
Source: VT Wonen
I need all of this
You and I will meet again, When we’re least expecting it, One day in some far off place, I will recognize your face, I won’t say goodbye my friend, For you and I will meet again.
Tom Petty (via wnq-music)
I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you, I left because the longer I stayed the less I loved myself.
Rupi Kaur (via wordsnquotes)
This