(how does one sleep when they are going to italy tomorrow) (???)
What I really love are those little things about people that you notice over time. Like the odd shape of their eyebrows or their weird teeth or the way they say certain words or the way they tell stories. I mean, most of these little things aren’t necessarily good or bad or aren’t even that…
On the verge
All hail blogging as a diary
"If you are lonely when you’re alone, you are in bad company"
— Jean-Paul Sartre (via livefortravel)
(Source: man-and-camera, via livefortravel)
(Source: maudit, via crispyrealization)
yourfaceisgluedtoabuildingonfire:
“The Mars Volta and John were outside waiting for the van and just out of the blue my niece came to me and told me: ” I know what to say to John” and I asked her what? and she said “I love your music very much” (up until that moment she hadn’t spoken to him, she was very shy..)… and I said that it was ok, but I didn’t believe she was for real… but thank god I was mistaken!
She went to him and said :”John?”… he turned around and when he saw her he bent like in the picture… and then she told him “I love your music very much” and John started to reply to her but she didn’t understand him (she couldn’t speak in english at that time!! she only knew how to say those words!!)…. so I explained to him the situation and so he did the most beautiful thing I have seen… he took her by the arm and said with words and gestures “YOU (he pointed at her) MADE ME (he pointed at him) HAPPY (with his fingers “drew” a smile on his lips)-The story behind this picture, told by Silvina (photographer
(via goddontmakenojunk)
"
The balloon is ready, I’ve tethered it to the balcony with a knot no sailor could invent. Ignore the gathering crowd below. Plebeians! Maybe if we look closely we will find our mothers waving handkerchiefs, and our fathers scrowling. If we see any children we’ll throw them candy but don’t tell them why we are up here, floating above Belleville in a hot air balloon. If they knew, they’d never want to sleep in their own beds ever again.
Remember how we met? Barefoot on the beach (the hem of your dress starched white with salt). I was flying a beautiful kite. Yours was ragged and obviously self made. After a few failed attempts at flight you threw your kite on the sand and stomped on it. I wondered if it was your first kite. Kite making, you assured me, was not your specialty. But we are too old for kites. Let us toast the Flying Club Cup, our health, a quick painless death and helium.
I’m going to sleep so well tonight.
Breathe in, deeply now, okay do you feel it?
Don’t worry, we’re finally here.
"— Ryan Condon (via crowleysplants)
