[this-old-stomping-ground]

(via 9e6e1ccdcb1f594b8b20b2a1bb61af30.jpg (736×1308))

[natureisthegreatestartist]

[ghostgirl369]

Love letters from the universe

She is a hurricane of endless fascination, born speaking in wonder.

Mention crows, and somehow, forty minutes later, she is speaking of cross-stitched quotes on feather-down pillows, childhood fables few else know, and the mathematics of loneliness.

She asks questions the way forests grow roots— quietly, in every direction. Someone so captivated by living while carrying so much evidence that living hurts.

She stops mid-sentence because embers dancing in firelight remind her of dust caught in the sun of a childhood attic long forgotten.

Talking to her feels like being pulled- through rooms, through cemeteries, past cobwebs on tombstones, a silk-spun thread stuck to your sleeve, as if every thing has been waiting to lead you somewhere.

The strangest part— she has no idea what it is like to meet her.

She can calculate the distance between stars,

hear the echoes left in old artifacts,

but ask her

why someone might love her—

and suddenly,

the brightest mind cannot solve the simplest proof.

because meeting her is realizing

the universe has always been writing love letters

to itself.

Image by EvgeniT from Pixabay

[ruhv]

[noxsera]

[nostalgicamerica]

[vita-bona-est5]

[this-old-stomping-ground]

(via 4e29831b8a71052f0966c9c6f9afb9e3.jpg (1200×1796))

[noxsera]

Me and you

[noxsera]

[simplyasoutherngal1]

Only you

[tatia1209]

[tatia1209]

[hissiznota]

[noxsera]

[bignaz8]

Good times though!

[tatia1209]