How do you prefer your coffee?
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With you.
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Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.
Monterey Bay Aquarium
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

titsay
i don't do bad sauce passes

@theartofmadeline
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shark vs the universe
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
hello vonnie
Cosmic Funnies
wallacepolsom
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni
noise dept.

JBB: An Artblog!

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trying on a metaphor

Kaledo Art

seen from United States

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seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Egypt

seen from Egypt
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from France
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@su-writes
How do you prefer your coffee?
ㅤ
With you.
ㅤ
{Quotes marguaxpoetry on Instagram / Sarah Kay}
i belong to the simple everyday moments,
while the world is out there busy chasing big dreams.
i belong to the twilight sky,
which fills colours to mundane thoughts.
i belong to the old wooden house on the crest,
which has harboured generations and still stands tall.
i belong to the carnations someone brought for their beloved,
plucked from the garden which has grown inside their heart.
someone said "teenage is the spring of life, it makes the flower (adolescents) bloom"
i think teenage is the monsoon, like the clouds, we bottle up so much and suffer in silence and at a point burst recklessly for being shut out for so long.
we've never been the ones with good timing, not when we met or when we fell apart
but for one moment, one tiny little moment, I swear we were infinite.
we are all houses, built from the words that were said to us.
you will mention your favorite color is yellow and people will be practically jumping at the chance to let you know how hideous it is to them. just SALIVATING to look you in the eye and tell you it’s fucking ugly. like man what do you want and expect me to do here. change my mind? i have to laugh
Yellow is beautiful.
It's said that Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he believed that colouring his internal organs yellow would get happiness inside him.
Perhaps we spend our lives looking for our yellow in people, places and in art.
what truly matters is how much you love, how gently you live, and how gracefully you let go of things that are not meant for you.
when it's about love, I'll close the book on the second last page.
because I'm too afraid of endings.
The twin flame I once saw in you
Turned into a stranger
Whom my heart cannot recognise.
“Before you die, experience the love of a writer, poet, or painter. If you’re lucky enough to be an artist’s muse, they will immortalise you.”
― Soledad Francis
Imagine being the subject of someone's poetry.
Always the poet, never the poem.
You know the thing about writers and poets?
If you were ever a part of their journey, however brief it might have been, you will always end up living in their stories forever.
And I hope, for your sake, that they are the happy ones.
"Some days I’m Van Gogh’s Starry Night, other days I’m his suicide letter."
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Life isn't easy, it won't ever be. But it's better with you in it.
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When William Faulkner said,
"Perhaps they were right putting love into the books, perhaps love could not live anywhere else."