Oh the glory when you ran outside with your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied and you told me not to follow you.
IG @sarahlewarn
IG @sarahlewarn
For Gothic Heroines, Haunted Houses Are Always Too Big, Jane Healey
(via modest-moon)
Infinity scared me
when I was small.
A nonbeliever accepts
a kind of fog around facts—
believers demand meaning.
This beloved fog forms a tissue, like love.
Burns off in bald light, like love.
— Molly Brodak, from the title poem of The Cipher (via bostonpoetryslam)
Detail of “Primavera” by Italian Renaissance master Sandro Botticelli
(late 1470s / early 1480s)
(via shahdhabibi)