I am made for autumn. Summer and I have a fickle relationship, but everything about autumn is perfect to me. Wooly jumpers, Wellington boot, scarves, thin first, then thick, socks. The low slanting light, the crisp mornings, the chill in my fingers, those last warm sunny days before the rain and the wind. Her moody hues and subdued palate punctuated every now and again by a brilliant orange, scarlet or copper goodbye. She is my true love.
- A recipe for Rowan Jelly by Alys Fowler (via iphigenias)

(元記事: toasttravels.co.uk (areyouwearinganypantsから))

10時間前 with 3,732 リアクション · reblog

3 am is kinda our thing. i would wake up from my slumber, if i did sleep earlier on that is, and waiting for your call id to flash up. you’d call, you never missed a day. there were times when words are failing us and we just comfortably listening to each other’s breathing until one of us gives in and fall asleep. or when we stay together, you would drive me to places with your box of cigarette and our lovely playlist, anywhere at all at 3 am. 3 am fits you, it’s cold and dark; a time peak where one seeks for comfort the most. you give me those all at once, you ease me. i love 3 am, given that when we share that particular period of time together. i stop loving it when it stops being special. when you close the door behind you and pushes me awake passed the time. i stopped enjoying you at 3 am, and 3.30 comes and i stuck at 4 and you fail to show up. at 5? i stop being me. 3 am almost comes to live when i received a call one day. it wasn’t you. it didn’t ease me, that very 3 am. i don’t mind the time, call me whenever. let’s play fireflies wherever at 12 noon, at 3 fucking pm. dont seal your way out so i couldn’t follow you anymore. but you did just that. it’s 2.30 am, 30 more minutes to your one year death anniversary. 3 am was our thing, but it remains permanently yours. sleep well alice, sleep pass it. it’s okay

1週間前 with 0リアクション · reblog





a short poem:

do teachers
that you take
other classes

another short poem:

yes but see
they are all
by the district
or state
to assign a
certain amount
of gradable
material per
semester so
they can get
paid and earn
raises and bonuses
and keep
their jobs and

a revised short poem:

does the district
or state
that you take
other classes

another short poem:


(元記事: frenchtoastkarma (bitchytbhから))

Say the wind blows. It can be a strong, violent wind or a gentle breeze. But eventually every kind of wind dies out and disappears. Wind doesn’t have form. It’s just a movement of air. You should listen carefully, and then you’ll understand the metaphor.
- kafka on the shore  (via ajlnq)

(元記事: alexithymiadaily (nkkasuyaから))

1週間前 with 490 リアクション · reblog


"i don’t support feminism because i don’t hate men"