dinner: udon in miso or fantastic noodles?
i’m going to bed in 45 minutes for sure. reports week, you are my nemesis.
“Reading fiction is important. It is a vital means of imagining a life other than our own, which in turn makes us more empathetic beings. Following complex story lines stretches our brains beyond the 140 characters of sound-bite thinking, and staying within the world of a novel gives us the ability to be quiet and alone, two skills that are disappearing faster than the polar icecaps.” — Ann Patchett
(Source: idreamof-teri-maa, via iamkloo)
[video]
this is my city.
rain, bed, hot water bottle, wide open windows. oui.
how easy is it to sell my kidney?
do i want this?
i give up.
click here, please? and "like"? -
my friend tommy writes an amazing music blog. you should help him out by liking his blog for the ultrablog awards. it will take you less than a minute! <3
I think it is the moment we become inescapably aware of our own skin. Of the sinews, bones and muscles that wrap around one another to hold us together. This pulsing mass that layers itself one upon the other to give substance and weight to the colours and the shapes. The way we stare at our hands, suddenly so aware of their presence, so unsure of how these fit with the dark parts of dreaming and awakening. We process fingers, knuckles, bones, nails, skin, blood, movement, sensation. The electricity of a small, warm desire that is something like music, something like wholeness, something that seems to find itself when these tiny fragile bones and skin reach out into space and find yours.
is there something i should know?
!!!!!!!!