➵ 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 *𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒* 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒𝒹...

“Sometimes, even with a film I really love, I cannot tell the story precisely. Sometimes I cannot even tell what happened chronologically. But I’ll have flashes of some things. Sometimes it looks almost like a still. What I know, what I can remember is the emotion I felt. I know I loved a film because I remember feeling good in the film or feeling odd when I came out, either in tears or touched or mad.”

— Agnès Varda, from an interview with Melissa Anderson, 2001 (via filmografie)

Evening Public Ledger, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, December 11, 1918

Sometimes I feel like a caretaker of a museum — a huge, empty museum where no one ever comes, and I’m watching over it for no one but myself.

Haruki Murakami, Pinball, 1973 (via larmoyante)

Carl Vilhelm Holsøe, (1863-1835)- Reflections

you wear an ancestor's face. you look like a woman you'll never meet. in that mirror, there's thousands of you. and in the bath, when you look down, she looks back, shaking and deforming in the ripples as she lies beneath the surface.

u heard him ladies

“The all-night convenience store’s empty and no one is behind the counter. You open and shut the glass door a few times causing a bell to go off, but no one appears. You only came to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe a copy of yesterday’s newspaper – finally you take one and leave thirty-five cents in its place. It is freezing, but it is a good thing to step outside again: you can feel less alone in the night, with lights on here and there between the dark buildings and trees. Your own among them, somewhere. There must be thousands of people in this city who are dying to welcome you into their small bolted rooms, to sit you down and tell you what has happened to their lives. And the night smells like snow. Walking home for a moment you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It’s unendurable, unendurable.”

— Franz Wright, “Night Walk” (via blxckberrying)

saying “you are a burden on society” is just such a weird framing of priorities It’s like saying “wow, think how much better gas mileage your car would get if you weren’t sitting in it” or “think how dry that umbrella would be if you weren’t holding it in between you and the rainstorm”. the things we create? they’re for us. they are meant to carry us. they are meant to protect us. we are meant to hold them up to keep us dry. 

Why do i get so flustered around cute boys? It’s like i forget that all men are beneath me