Natalie Bouroumand

I want you. I want your sleepy confused look when you wake up. I want to be the warmth that fills the space in your bed. I want to be the sheets your fingers crave at night; the blanket that wraps around you all night. I want to drink tea with you, share some records we find. I want to talk about everything in the world newspapers. I want to discuss with you, to be stubborn and quick-witted with you. I want to have differences between us. I want your flaws. All of them. I want go into the deepest corners of your mind and never get bored of you. I want to be surprised by the new all the time. I want to look at you like a movie, a living piece of art; always trying to chase what you crave … and capture you.

For these beings, fall is ever the normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth….Such are the autumn people.

—Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes.  (via mirroir)

(Source: jennygreenteethswamp, via strange-infatuation)

scott-pilgrimage:

whosromeo:

i think it’s cute when someone admits they have a crush on you

i think it’s a fucking miracle 

It’s a miracle when one admits but a phenomenon when TWO admit. What the heck is happening?! In one night?! It’s too much

(via bird-madgirl)