𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟿, 𝟷𝟿𝟹𝟶 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚢

shes so me

And so at last I climbed the honey tree, ate chunks of pure light, ate the bodies of bees that could not get out of my way, ate the dark hair of the leaves, the rippling bark, the heartwood. Such frenzy! But joy does that, I’m told, in the beginning. Later, maybe, I’ll come here only sometimes and with a middling hunger. But now I climb like snake, I clamber like a bear to the nuzzling place, to the light salvaged by the thighs of bees and racked up in the body of the tree. Oh, anyone can see how I love myself at last! how I love the world! climbing by day or night in the wind, in the leaves, kneeling at the secret rip, the cords of my body stretching and singing in the heaven of appetite.

The Honey Tree by Mary Oliver

to be free

“I feel frozen, standing, waiting for the lights to change. I hear nothing. I feel irrelevant. I feel dreamy. It is almost dream like, self created silence.”

— Daul Kim

𝚁𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎 [𝟷𝟾𝟼𝟷-𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟷] 

[ID: Stars in their orbits, Moon sun and planets - END ID]

(via)

just like ― 情熱 ♥︎

From Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (1869).