“But The Best Walking Is Without Reason, Formless, Scattering The Self Into Thinking, More Winter.”

Hey, do you know that feeling of hitching up a long skirt so you don’t fall on your face when walking upstairs, and then you immediately become a wretched yet resolute Jane Austen character? It’s a universal thing, right?

You look like the killer,I look like the lamb.

Would you kill for me or kill me?

the reason i like staying up late so much is because between the hours of 1am-5am, the world is quiet and no one expects anything from me. i could stare at my wall for 4 hours and there would be no consequences. it’s so silent and calm. i love it

“Travel and tell no one, live a true love story and tell no one, live happily and tell no one, people ruin beautiful things.”

— Khalil Gibran (via wordsnquotes)

Longing is the absent chatting with the absent. The distant turning towards the distant. Longing is the spring’s thirst for the jar-carrying women and vice versa. Longing allows distance to recede, as if looking forward, although it may be called hope, were an adventure and a poetic notion. The present tense is hesitant and perplexed, the past tense hangs from a Cypress tree standing on its rooted leg behind a hill, enveloped in its dark green, listening intently to one sound only : the sound of the wind. Longing is the sound of the wind.

—Mahmoud Darwish, from “XIV”, In the Presence of Absence. Archipelago, 2011

Long nights.Coffee stained books. Dark circles. Half full cups scattered around a dimly lit room. Heavy rain hitting off a window. Water filling the gutters. Tchaikovsky playing quietly on a record player. A neighboring houses window open wide enough to hear the soft violin chords. Shy smiles at books. Half closed eyes. Soft hums.

- Coffeemood

Dark academia’s not spending hours and hours studying and doing homework for your uni

It’s spending hours and hours studying and working at topics that are completely unrelated to what you’re doing at uni

And today I did my hair,went to the church

Met my parents after a month,brought home some duck eggs and some herbs.

Cleaned my tub and washed my breasts.

My plants were green and my apple was not rotten today.

White linen sheets and dirty curtains still made my bed.

I did all the things but didn't wait for someone again.

“She looked up at the stars and asked what it was like to fall. The stars twinkled sadly and replied with, ‘Oh, honey, you already have.’”

— Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #46 // Then, why does it hurt? (via vanillasweet)

because everytime it’s not loud, it’s louder

-