that’s enough emotions for a whole year. ciao

just thinking of how our meaning or purpose in life is merely to experience. eating an orange segment, hoping for snow, being in love, returning over and over to one painting, stepping outside for the full moon, submersion in water, having a favourite colour, knowing beauty, feeling alone, feeling connected, feeling longing... it is enough. 

do i go on a walk or do i go bat shit insane

shirt that says “as above” and booty shorts that say “so below”

It’s ok to message me a paragraph of how much u adore me

For all of you who need to hear this

omg she was scared

Anaïs Nin, from “The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1955–1966”

some things we should start romanticising

bike rides, especially when listening to music. the wind in your hair, the songs in your ears, every sound being quiet and living in your own bubble of lyrics. (edit: in some countries this is illegal and it can be dangerous - i had not thought of that and i apologise)

sitting in a bus. you’re going back home, maybe you’re reading a book or just looking outside of the foggy glass.

making tea. warming up the water, bringing it to a simmer and closing the gas, pouring it into a ceramic mug, the perfume of tea leaves: it’s a ritual.

buying a new book. walking in a book store, reading the first page of a book that sounds interesting, choosing a book because of its cover, never having heard of that book.

reading the last page of a book. that one doctor who episode where the doctor says he rips the last page of each book he reads, reading the last line and feeling like all the air in your lungs is gone.

that one specific moment when you are coming back from a party and you’re walking the few last steps before getting home. 

writing your name on a new notebook. scribbling messy letters or trying hard to make it look pretty.

tying shoe laces. where are you even going?

picking a flower. getting off the road and into a patch of grass just to pick a yellow wild flower, pressing it in a book, or putting it in a glass of water.

finally getting to bed. the cold bedsheets, closing your burning eyes, the small sounds of the city.

-c. 23.07.20 6.15pm

the vibe

New York, you’re beautiful and I don’t ever want to leave ❤️

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

There’s something so nice about sitting here (ig: rhiharper)

i’m sorry but tanjirou saying “having those two by my side will give me confidence” while these 2 images exist is something i’m going to need at least a week to recover from

my mom’s childhood town

Marina Tsvetaeva, from Earthly Signs: Moscow Diaries, 1917-1922; “A Hero of Labor”

﹙ Text ID: I’ll cry about this earth in heaven too.﹚

a few days ago i was exploring an abandoned mansion and i found an overgrown swimming pool with computers in it