Okay let me explain you a thing about little inner-city apartments, about little slices of domesticity hewn out of old brick and DIY plaster, filled with rag-tag people that you have assembled as a family unit, with indie music on low and laughter and dwindling bottles of wine. Where the cat is always asleep atop your computer and your best dress and stockings are tossed on the couch and your faulty window opens to a planted box full of herbs and the steamy buzz of the city below. Where take out from your favorite deli awaits you in the fridge and work is only a bus-ride away and hte city comes right up the meet you at night, swilling in with the night wind and tugging at your hair and sweater until you venture out into it. There’s something truly magical about a tiny well-kept apartment filled with treasured people, something more exquisite than anything in the world, I think.
"I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is?"
— Vincent Van Gogh (via feufroid)
(Source: light-essence, via dilettashakespeare)
We’re all going to end up killing the planet we live on and everyone don’t seem to realize that human beings are going to go down with it.
"It’s the oldest story in the world. One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you’re ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life."
— Nathan Scott (via magicmanula)