She reminds him of every good day he’s ever had . Every summer spent in fields of grass. Every sunrise. Every sunset. She tastes like dew and smells like light. And when she speaks, it’s like someone slowly plucking the strings of a guitar, a sadly beautiful song starting to play, all his own. And he loves her. He loves her like he can never grab enough of her between his fingers. And no matter how close he gets, even when they make love, it never feels close enough, like her flesh and her bones keep something sacred in them, hidden from him.
Iain Thomas (via caitie617)


ooh-bite-me:

when your mom walks up behind you while you’re blogging

image

(via mergoat)





vera:

Perfect red line in a Hungarian forest marking the high point of a toxic aluminum sludge spill

vera:

Perfect red line in a Hungarian forest marking the high point of a toxic aluminum sludge spill

(via retro-girl811)


softboycollective:

thebluelip-blondie:

my white protesters please remember that you’re rarely at the same risk we are when you stand up for what is right

I’m not gonna stop reblogging these reminders

softboycollective:

thebluelip-blondie:

my white protesters please remember that you’re rarely at the same risk we are when you stand up for what is right

I’m not gonna stop reblogging these reminders

(via mergoat)


(via ichihunna)