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#books & libraries
asikan · 2 days ago
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İnsanların TV ile değil şarkılarla yaşadığı bir dönem vardı ve harikaydı.
Bu parçalar bir efsanedir keyifli vakitler diliyorum.
Ben çoşkıyu veriyorum açın SESİİİİ🎶🎧
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poetry-siir · 2 days ago
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When they made this particular hero, they didn’t give him a gun, they gave him a screwdriver to fix things. They didn’t give him a tank or a warship or an x-wing fighter, they gave him a call box from which you can call for help. And the didn’t give him a superpower or pointy ears or a heat ray, they gave him an extra heart. They gave him two hearts. And that’s an extraordinary thing; there will never come a time when we don’t need a hero like the doctor.
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bourgwesioie · 29 days ago
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What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three and two and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are—underneath the year that makes you eleven.
Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.
Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is.
I’m eleven today. I’m eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, and one, but I wish I was one hundred and two. I wish I was anything but eleven, because I want today to be far away already, far away like a runaway balloon, like a tiny o in the sky, so tiny-tiny you have to close your eyes to see.
sandra cisneros; eleven
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sliceofh3aven · 3 months ago
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Daydreaming about moving to London and opening a coffee shop with a library. The shop would be dark academia costumized and there would be poetry, literature or art nights for everyone to express themselves and discuss about different point of views.
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statueofanxiety-h · 14 days ago
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People are so vulnerable at night. They're willing to spill out their souls to anyone willing to listen. They've desire to deal things that never cross their mind when the sun is in the sky.
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poetry-siir · 10 hours ago
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Imagine being in ravenclaw and going back to your common room  stumbling drunk in the middle of the night after a magical night of partying and having to answer a fucking riddle in order to get in your own goddamn bedroom.
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