#prose piece

[yourmelancholickid]

I want all your laughs to be mine

[yuna-is-tired-sm]

― 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘷𝘪𝘢 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘑𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘴.

[bookmatter]

The Immoralist, André Gide

[that-faerie-in-the-corner]

had a dialogue idea in my head. obviously a little inspired by @kallistoriae 's work

[raahisblog]

Sometimes we carry the weight of our loved one’s problems, not because we feel we caused them, but because we want to be their safe place. It’s love’s quiet way of saying ''I may not fix everything, but I’ll hold your hand through it all, so you’ll never face the storm alone''

[selfproclaimedselfapologist]

A DAUGHTER, A FATHER, HER GOD

// x alt. versions under the cut !

[youvereacheddazey]

And the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion.

— Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns

[4lornly]

I think often of the dishes from my old apartment, nesting mismatched and lovely and newspaper-swaddled beneath the childhood bedroom where I still sleep. These days I find myself missing the majesty of childhood (or at least of the happier parts) and the smooth, solitary rituals of independence in equal measure. The holiness of sunlight dyed green by the leaves, hair in thick braids, and toes ever-muddied. Long weekends spent alone, toddling around in those green suede heels I wanted to like while waiting for water to boil, or else basking pajama-clad in the living room sun, tea in hand. Perhaps it's all the green I'm missing--that growing, changing color--but I'm surrounded by it here and it only makes me feel like a tree that's grown out instead of upwards. No, I think it's the sun that I love the most, the feeling of it without fear of being burned.

--june reflections // 4lornly