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Leaving London for a week–– I always miss the city, looking forward to being back already (and who can blame me, just look at this light in the library)

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made a uquiz

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Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

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autumn mornings ⋇ 5 oct

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Choosing (detail, 1864) George Frederic Watts

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cant stop thinking abt richard siken saying that people liked him better when they thought he was forever young, beautiful, serious and dead

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Glow From The Depth  By Salar Kheradpejouh

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obsessed with mass market paperbacks. their pleasing rectangular proportions. how they fit badly in a hoodie pocket so you can drag them around everywhere with you like a temporary little buddy. the way they fit in your hand because they're MADE for human hands and not as bookshelf decoration. the way the pages feel when you riffle them gently with your thumb. How pristine and crisp they look when you get them and how creased and folded they look when you're done, even if you try to be nice to them. how that wear is okay, how that's correct actually, because they're made with the philosophy that books aren't meant to be PRETTY, they're meant to be read. that little ripple new ones get on the left side from where you hold them when you're reading, the way the ripple only goes as far as you've read, because u change stories by reading as they are changing you. how you can find thousands of these creased and folded and loved little dudes in every thrift store and used book shop and neighborhood library and you can instantly see the ones that someone carried around in a backpack for weeks or read to pieces or gave up on halfway through because they wear being read like fresh snow wears footprints. I love these poorly made, subpar little rectangles so much. truly the people's books.

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via

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concept playlists?? but existential?

it's been a while! here's some existentially threatening tunes to daydream and freak out to.

if we want the rewards of being loved, we must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

the house is home again?

you're only alive when you're young, and you're only young once. it's death at the house party, indie-alt suburbia lives forever + all the romanticization of 2016 in one playlist and feasting on every coming of age movie ever watched

i remember being loved. the warmth of nostalgia, the closeness of childhood, the kingdom where nobody dies. we felt loved. and maybe that feeling is gone, but isn't it enough that it existed once?

a soft sadness, the kind that is cozy and worth settling into and wasting the night on.

"this moment is as god as it gets, and it's the only home you'll ever have, the only beloved you will ever truly know." -David Deida

a fitting end. something that feels like closure as the credits roll.

bonus: (cheer up)

jazzy babies

grungey babies

crunchy (it's just...crunchy)

-my playlist tag- -follow me on spotify for more!-

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Rose spirea

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“you should be at the club” Brother I should literally be sent to the seaside for my health

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(by Job Savelsberg)| Vik, Iceland