reading-inthe-rain

[reading-inthe-rain]

people who go out n create stuff like this have unlocked the meaning of life

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Rainiest days call upon the best spells .°•☆`

Artist: Francesca Buchko

[reading-inthe-rain]

Virgin and Child with Angels (Detail), c.1620. By Bartolomeo Cavarozzi

[reading-inthe-rain]

casual intimacy kills me every time. grand gestures are cute and all but seeing two people who are just totally comfortable with having each other in their space, who dont think twice about leaning into each other and thoughtlessly holding each other while doing unrelated things….. thats love

[reading-inthe-rain]

The Beguiled (2017) Dir. Sofia Coppola

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vibe check (kisses you on the lips)

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I can’t wait until I see you again.

[reading-inthe-rain]

i would give anything to be in your arms right now

[reading-inthe-rain]

i miss u, i wanna kiss u

[reading-inthe-rain]

the real magic is to reveal the ordinary as the ethereal

[reading-inthe-rain]

the intimacy of holdjng the same pole on the bus...

[reading-inthe-rain]

learning how powerful it is to say “this is what i feel” and “this is what i want” and firmly standing by it

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“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

Dead Poets Society (1989) dir. Peter Weir.

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if you’re worried things won’t get better, here’s your sign that they will.

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Autumn & Dark Academia Things:

Heavy oxfords paired with your favourite dark trousers; the pockets filled with library and café receipts.

Black earl grey tea and coffee cups left on the window-sill as rain falls softly. A classical record plays in the background, crackling with the grains of time.

The golden September light falling gently on the campus buildings. A cold breeze slips under your tweed and wool as you notice new secret engraving on the stone walls.

The feeling of a new notebook, leather bound and with empty white pages. Your fountain pen rolling along the wooden desk.

Your shoulder aches under the weight of all the books you’ve brought home, perfumed with the ancient musk of the hidden library you’ve discovered for the first time.

The leaves swirling past as you sit on the bench on campus, filling your curious mind with secret languages and the sonnets of your most treasured poet.

[reading-inthe-rain]

come back, come back to me

[reading-inthe-rain]

louvre museum