[lilllium]

—Randall Mann, from The End Of Landscape

[jazbaaati]

Banana Yoshimoto, Kitchen

[heavensghost]

it’s quiet here

[throughwinterfields]

“I am one of those who has no trouble imagining the sentient lives of trees, of their leaves in some fashion communicating or of the massy trunks and heavy branches knowing it is I who have come, as I always come, each morning, to walk beneath them, glad to be alive and glad to be there.”

— Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Prose Poems, and Poems  (via luthienne)

[flowerytale]

Ada Limón, from “Sometimes I Think My Body Leaves a Shape in the Air”, The Carrying: Poems

[maureen2musings]

…

laohatfield

[vilecarcasses]

the view from my car window

[flowerytale]

Anne Carson, from The Glass Essay

[metamorphesque]

― Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

[text ID: I exist. It is soft, so soft, so slow. And light: it seems as though it suspends in the air. It moves.]

[thoughtkick]

“I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. I could not control the world I was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I took joy in the things that made me happy.”

— Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

[voirlvmer]

“I want to tell her that I want so badly to be a part of this world, to stand in it, but every hand I touch withholds warmth. The world gathers everywhere beyond me.”

— Victoria Chang, from “Dear Father”, Dear Memory: Letters on Writing, Silence, and Grief

[coffeepeople]

sometimes I wonder how we all survive and then I look at my best friends and I go “oh, I survive because I don’t want to leave you yet” and it makes sense. life is so hard a lot of the time, but I want one more bowl of pasta with you.

[metamorphesque]

— Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anais Nin, Vol. 4: 1944-1947

[ell-hs]

[starlightacademia]

one day you think: I want to die. and then you think, very quietly: actually. actually. I think I want a coffee. a nap. a sandwich. a book. and I want to die turns day by day into want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friend, I want to sit in the sun, I want a cleaner kitchen, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else. I want to live.

- via duckbunny

[voirlvmer]

“I want to tell her that I want so badly to be a part of this world, to stand in it, but every hand I touch withholds warmth. The world gathers everywhere beyond me.”

— Victoria Chang, from “Dear Father”, Dear Memory: Letters on Writing, Silence, and Grief

[uroko]

by:  花景色－