[sundhais]

🌿🌿🍁👼🏼

[im-horngry]

[royahl]

 r o y a h l 

[aleiaell]

//

aleiaell

[liberatingreality]

You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom: absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this or die like this without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken.

Anais Nin

[rrrroza-deactivated20161012]

[lunaoki]

rooftop garden shot in shanghai, china using infrared film by kert gartner

[folkabout]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

May something comfort you—a mockingbird, a breeze, rain on the roof, Chopin’s Nocturnes, a kiss,or even me—in my chilly kitchen with my coat on—thinking of you.

Ellen Bass, from Insomnia 

[sfgirlbybay]

unpacking. and it’s beginning to feel like home. #sfgirlinla (at Echo Park, Los Angeles)

[ingelnook]

[celeritious]

untitled by mieke v. willems on Flickr.

[wnq-writers]

Darling, you are a collapsed sun. At night, you lay your hand on me and they resemble rays of sun light and everything is warm.

Mavaline 

[wreck]

[thenordroom]

Home with pink details

[nectaurine-blog]

plot twist: you are everyone's first choice.

[souris-ala-vie]

Caorle, Italy

[mmmoky]

[stoicremains-deactivated2017102]

We lay there. She was forcing it with her scorn, the kiss she gave me, the hard curl of her lips, the mockery of her eyes, until I was like a man made of wood and there was no feeling within me except terror and fear of her, a sense that her beauty was too much, that she was so much more beautiful than I, deeper rooted than I.
She made me a stranger unto myself, she was all of those calm nights…

John Fante, Ask The Dust