I’m not funny; you just have a terrible sense of humor.
Source: vaudevilliandevil
The Rain
The rain cascaded around them, but beneath the red-and-white striped umbrella, they were safe. In each other’s arms, they were safe. The rain was cold, and kicked dirt and pebbles onto their legs, dusting them with sandpaper. They were safe. They kissed for minutes, an hour, a lifetime. They were absorbed, symbiotic, Siamese. E pluribus unum; and they were safe.
They braved the storm, they braved the cold, they braved their minds.
They were safe.
Source: vaudevilliandevil
I’m not funny; you just have a terrible sense of humor.
The Rain
The rain cascaded around them, but beneath the red-and-white striped umbrella, they were safe. In each other’s arms, they were safe. The rain was cold, and kicked dirt and pebbles onto their legs, dusting them with sandpaper. They were safe. They kissed for minutes, an hour, a lifetime. They were absorbed, symbiotic, Siamese. E pluribus unum; and they were safe.
They braved the storm, they braved the cold, they braved their minds.
They were safe.
Source: cuppyquake
Salads at a burger place!! (Taken with instagram)
Reunited, and it feels so good
Reunited, ‘cause we understood
Today, I made some calming manatees, but most of them are the wrong size to go on the site.
Oh well. Would you like them?
Oh my god this is BEAUTIFUL
a-aahhhhhh, i wanna hug one
omg yes
Reblogging for a certain Manatee Dugong lover I know.
(via hewhoswimsquickly)
Source: scienceandrollerskates
Somehow more regal in Low-Fi (Taken with instagram)
Love in LOVE. (Taken with instagram)
:D
I’m listening…
Did you ever sit alone in the dark and listen to the world? I don’t mean listen to the way the world sounds, the chirping of crickets or birds, the rivers running over their stony banks, or the rustling of trees as they hold their ground against the winds. I mean listen to the ideas of the world. The brilliant ideas that come to you in the middle of the night, when no one is around, no one to interrupt the openness of your mind.
I like to think of these as being stray thoughts forgotten by the world, but too important to let go. Dreams and daydreams passed through the ether and entering the subconscious of others, flourishing and igniting synapses. If I am ever so blessed to catch one; I can only hope to never forget it, and to nurture it forever more.
Source: vaudevilliandevil
Dream Girl
Her accent accentuated her personality. She felt whole, a unique person crystallized from the ether. Everything about her was, well, it just was. It wasn’t about perfection, though my esteem for her rivals the Mona Lisa, rivals all the galleries in the world. I’d let each burn before I’d allow a single cinder to singe her skin. There is not one passing moment where I do not think of her smile, where I do not think of what she deserves, or needs, or wants. Winters and winters could pass, dozens whirl by me like the blades of a fan — I would blink to freeze them in their place to hold onto fleeting images — where she would not have a bad day, where a frown would not cross her full lips; and it would be too frequently.
I say hello to her every night, and goodbye every morning (sometimes afternoon). She visits when my eyelids are closed and my eyes flicker through my skull immortalizing her, us.
When I wake, I shake the feeling of her warmth from me, and I suffer through another rotation of this planet.
I suffer until I can join her again. Then everything feels right.
Source: vaudevilliandevil
Hi Tumblr, here’s my face, sorry it’s been so long my lovelies.
Dream Girl
Her accent accentuated her personality. She felt whole, a unique person crystallized from the ether. Everything about her was, well, it just was. It wasn’t about perfection, though my esteem for her rivals the Mona Lisa, rivals all the galleries in the world. I’d let each burn before I’d allow a single cinder to singe her skin. There is not one passing moment where I do not think of her smile, where I do not think of what she deserves, or needs, or wants. Winters and winters could pass, dozens whirl by me like the blades of a fan — I would blink to freeze them in their place to hold onto fleeting images — where she would not have a bad day, where a frown would not cross her full lips; and it would be too frequently.
I say hello to her every night, and goodbye every morning (sometimes afternoon). She visits when my eyelids are closed and my eyes flicker through my skull immortalizing her, us.
When I wake, I shake the feeling of her warmth from me, and I suffer through another rotation of this planet.
I suffer until I can join her again. Then everything feels right.
