I want to be honest in my writer
I rarely am
The more words I use
The further away I get
From the feelings
I try to convey
It all becomes decoration
mock tudor poetry
faux leaded words
obscuring the window. /SEA
seen from Bolivia

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

seen from Switzerland
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Brazil

seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Poland
seen from Canada
seen from Yemen

seen from United States
I want to be honest in my writer
I rarely am
The more words I use
The further away I get
From the feelings
I try to convey
It all becomes decoration
mock tudor poetry
faux leaded words
obscuring the window. /SEA
Playlist: Late night summer drives by urself with the volume up and the windows down
champagne coast - blood orange
ode to viceroy - mac demarco
let’s dance to joy division - the wombats
party talk - craft spells
i’m god - clams casino
tyepwriter replied to your photo “Here I am”
ur so cute i cant deal with it what the heck
omg thank u i am honored
hi! i really love your blog and was wondering if you could recommend some more? Stay groovy! :-)
sure here are some of the ppl i follow that i love and u might love too, depending on what u lieke. all of them post the dankest of memes and usually a lot of lesbians.
http://miamitomoe.tumblr.com/
http://oriko.tumblr.com/
http://bagofsalad.tumblr.com/
http://nbremilia.tumblr.com/
http://nepetaleijon.tumblr.com/
http://ostolero.tumblr.com/
http://myriani.tumblr.com/
http://eggfucked.tumblr.com/
http://claireakkuma.tumblr.com/
http://lagiacrus.tumblr.com/
05/22/2014
Living alone does weird things to you. Lately, I've been feeling strangely creative, not in a particular sense, but the independence is doing strange things to me. I'm turning practically nocturnal, the camera is out, the coffee is everywhere and the notebooks are scattered all over my room. I've been looking fondly at my fairy lights and the typewriter, imagining days spent lying in bed listening to The Beatles and Ben Howard on vinyl and sipping coffee with a loved one, and nights spent furiously spilling all my drunken emotions into words on a typewriter. The smell of cigarettes only increases this daydream, and the sunshine out of the window. I do not smoke, but the smell speaks to me of creativity. In short, I feel oddly bohemian all of a sudden, and these crazy notions are haunting me.
My dad gave me his typewriter. :)