The Last Tale. Untitled Document

 
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Now begins to rise in me the familiar rhythm; words that have lain dormant now lift, now toss their crests, and fall and rise, and falls again. I am a poet, yes. Surely I am a great poet.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via observando)
capn-toryy:

clairvoyantism:

slutted:

cared:

tyrades:

meetmeintherainforest:

rnontr0se:

voguefrance:

zehcnaseinalem:

spooky-louie:

psyhcock:

vodkacupcakes:

Shit, its the thumb thing

i love the thumb thing

i do the thumb thing

I miss the thumb thing

I need the thumb thing

I want the damn thumb thing.

Really miss the thumb thing

he didn’t like the thumb thing

Someone do the thumb thing with me

he did the thumb thing with me


no one’s ever done the thumb thing with me

People don’t understand how good the thumb is
cruelings:

✿ similar here ✿
cruelings:

✿ similar here ✿
n4ughty-y:

♡ love, sex, kissing, and more ♡
bohemiandaily:

Floral Bath
bareffaced:

modelcult:

this is my new favorite picture

Queued xo
Just because you don’t say much doesn’t mean people don’t notice you. It’s actually the quiet ones who often draw the most attention. There’s this constant whirlwind of motion and sound all around, and then there’s the quiet one, the eye of the storm.
Amy Efaw, After (via expiry)

(Source: larmoyante, via happiest)