oblviv-ion:

“And what’s the use of talking, if you already know that others don’t feel what you feel?”

— Louise Bourgeois, Destruction of the Father / Reconstruction of the Father: Writings and Interviews, 1923-1997 (via novr)

windflowerfairy:

September, the month of new beginnings, new hopes and old dreams

magnetospussy:

i went to the gym today and there was a guy going to TOWN on the punching bags so i asked him “rough night?” and he said “my wife’s on a business trip and i miss her” and if that isnt the most steve rogers thing in the world idk what is

inkskinned:

I don’t know, my favorite was always witch weather. That moment that in a gust of wind or in the rumbling sky or at the edge of a fog bank where suddenly, you feel different. A restlessness, a sense of longing for a place that does not exist. I don’t know if anyone else has felt the electric tense changing of that moment. It calls the magic to your skin. For a moment, you feel ancient and powerful and lonely, as if you forgot something important. Witch weather. For some reason, in that wild instant: you remember you are alive, and that means some part of you belongs to the everlasting.