― Clarice Lispector

let's go on an adventure

Home isn't somewhere you born but you're raised with care

walk down with me, hand in hand

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How do we tell the sea that we are drowning on land?

“here’s the sea / anyway in front of you, here’s the / rest / (the waves whispering, as if waves could whisper)”

— Carl Phillips, from “Blue Wash on Linen Canvas, Believed Unfinished”, Pale Colors in a Tall Field (via voirlvmer)

-bleeding hands

He’d never cared much for strawberries, but that summer her lips were so stained with the juices that they were all he tasted.

And he’d never had a favourite fruit, but two years later, a new girl is sat in front of him, laughing at his jokes.

“If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?” She asks playfully.

And he remembers how her hands traced the veins in his neck and made their way across his chest. He remembers her soft breathing and limbs draped across his shoulders.

“Strawberries.” He tells her. “I could live a life on nothing but strawberries.”

“[A]nd I think of what Hobie said: beauty alters the grain of reality. And I keep thinking too of the more conventional wisdom: namely, that the pursuit of beauty is a trap, a fast track to bitterness and sorrow, that beauty has to be wedded to something more meaningful.”

— Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch