I was thinking about you. Were you thinking about me too?
ππππππππ π»π π΅πππ, π²πππππππ (ππππππππππ’ πππππππππ π·πΎπ½πΈ)
βLost in nostalgia,β
β Archilochus, from 7 Greeks (tr. Guy Davenport)
tired eyes and ink stained hands trail across the pages, as the rain-swept buildings nestle underneath the gloomy skies, and the poems of baudelaire pour from my heart.
ig: rosenaufsuden
Credit: autumnslittlesister
There are such things as ghosts. People everywhere have always known that. And we believe in them every bit as much as Homer did. Only now, we call them by different names. Memory. The unconscious. // The Secret History, Donna Tartt
βA work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art.β β Paul CΓ©zanne
βA morbid longing for the picturesque at all costsβ
-Donna Tartt, The Secret History
I overthink.
I over love.
I over feel.
I'm the sea or I'm nothing.