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@sparklingthings
• Nevin Johnson
When someone dies their silence becomes a sort of held note, a key on the piano pressed down for so long it becomes an ache in the ear, a new sonic register from which we start to measure our new, ruptured lives. A white noise. Maybe this is why there is so much music in dying: the funerals, the singing, the hymns, the eulogies. All those sounds crowding the air with what the dead can’t say.
Ocean Vuong, The Weight of Our Living: On Hope, Fire Escapes, and Visible Desperation
““Sometimes you find your path, sometimes it finds you.” - Max Brooks”
—
— Malia Makana, from “Like Differently Love.”
Sheffield Botanical Gardens, Sheffield, England | Liam Rimmington
by zeewipark
by thefarmhouseflowerfarm
— Tess Munster
sun showers are so pretty!
“Loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There’s no escape. I’m God’s lonely man.”
Instagram: RobboDarko
“Whatever causes night in your soul may leave stars.”
— Victor Hugo