i know we all go feral over coney island but GENUINELY. some lightening bolt of creativity shot down from the skies and joined these powerhouse artists together so that they could craft a perfect melody and prose that makes my bones ache and my heart break and my eyes well up and my soul leave my body. i think about the second verse at least once a day. it is a revelation every single time that i listen to them harmonise "a universe away". i understand something deep within myself in the closing chorus when i hear them sing "the sight that flashed before me was your face/when the sun goes down". they truly captured something poignant and fundamental and human and every single piece of praise that people give it is more than well deserved
Arp 273 is a pair of interacting galaxies, lying 300 million light years away in the constellation Andromeda. The larger of the spiral galaxies, known as UGC1810, is about five times more massive than the smaller galaxy.
Image credit: NASA/ESA & Hubble
evermore as an old storybook
@taylorswift @taylornation ♡
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it blows my mind that no matter the time or place, no matter how poor or rich, how happy or sad men were, we have always invented stories. to pass the time, to keep us company, to entertain and to teach; we never run out of characters, never run out of ideas. it's like our very souls can't bear the idea of not creating, of leaving tales untold
books?? amazing. paperbacks?? soft, cozy, may fit in your pocket, cheap so you don’t feel bad for taking notes in them. hardcovers??? beautiful, pristine, ground you into the world they hold by making you grip them tighter, the stars of every bookshelf. ebooks?? convenient, cheap, always with you, a vast library that you can hold in your palm. new books?? crisp, the smell of wood, ideas waiting to imprint themselves upon the world. old books?? objects transcending history, sweet smelling, enriched by the hands that stroked their pages. books.
i just need this love spiral...
As a child i already had a longing for a life that wasn't mine. I thought it was the future. Now i sit at my desk and there are sunbeams on the floor. I cry because they look like how they used to in our old living room when i was 5. I long for a past unlived, dreamt away, filled with hope for something that already happened almost unnoticed, but at least it was bathed in honey and sunlight.
yall know what i like most about tis the damn season? how much it sounds like an argument. Like all of the 'hear me out's and the repeated justifications of calling her babe but only for the weekend, how this is the only person to truly know when she's actually happy and how it's the warmest bed she's ever known. Like yes I love this person but I can only justify spending two days with them before I go back to my real life.
You are not your own person , really you are not. You are the laughter of your mother . The anger of your father. You are the warmth of your best friend and the kindness of the last book you read. You are pages of torn history , you are the music you sway to and beauty of stars on a clear night . You are the clouds on a rainy day and you are the clear skies on the sunny day. You are fragments of everything and everyone in your life regardless of where they are now. You are not you own person — but the whole universe.
I run from place to place, wanting to belong, wanting to find a home. When will I learn that my home is within me and it comes with me everywhere I go?
taylor swift lockscreens
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