See you in a week!
(via snickr)
See you in a week!
(via snickr)
What a terrible mistake to let go of something wonderful for something real.
(Source: legrandcirque, via eastatlanta)
Put a few words together prettily and it’s possible
to fall in love.
Move your hand slightly and I’m yours. Or gone.
And think of what can be done with flowers
or paint. I take back
what I said in my message yesterday,
the one saying I had printed and folded each message from you
into a boat, and now had a fleet of origami ships on my desk,
all of them sinking, none of them, I said,
seaworthy. That was mean.
If I think of them differently—not as vessels,
not as anything that might save a life—
but as smooth stones or carved chess pieces,
something I might hold to comfort me,
something I might put in my mouth,
then perhaps I can continue to pass the time this way.
The way I want you
just a detail, just a thing that can be carried.
(via grammatolatry)
(via atomos)
She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum.
(via libraryland)
(Source: Flickr / catherineroach, via bthnyktz)
(via veronicalovesarchie)
When I was a child, adults would tell me not to make things up, warning me of what would happen if I did. As far as I can tell so far, it seems to involve lots of foreign travel and not having to get up too early in the morning.
(via thechildmonster)

Me ‘n the girls. You know, vacationing. Looking fly.
(Source: everythingyouaskme, via matchbookmag)
Very little grows
on jagged rock.
Be ground.Be crumbled,
so wildflowers will come up
where you are.You’ve been stony for too many years.
Try something different.
Surrender.
(Source: monochromatic-thought, via crashinglybeautiful)
(Source: becauseimaddicted, via tenderbuttons)
Q: What is a reasonable number of books to take on vacation?
A: At least one more than the number of pairs of shoes you are packing.
(via katespadeny)
Isn’t it odd how much fatter a book gets when you’ve read it several times? As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells, and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower, both strange and familiar.
(via atomos)
Cruise dressesssss. I’ve trained my brain to spot them now. How can I ever go back to shopping for regular clothes?