"We Long For The Lost"

playing violin in the big room with vintage furniture, wearing silk bathrobe, reading books about art, drinking black coffee with your friends and discussing the last visit to museum

p.s: photos are not mine! If you know the owner, write me, please!

The heart has its storms, has its seasons of drooping but also its calms and even its times of exaltation. There is a time of sighing and of praying but there is also a time of answer to prayer. Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning.

Vincent van Gogh, in a letter to Theo van Gogh, 3 November 1876 (via weltenwellen)

❝Faber est suae quisque fortunae❞

"Every man is an artisan of his own fortune"

~Appius Claudius Caecus

Who else just fucking loves the color green

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. I don’t belong, and, my beloved, neither do you.

they are the dusk that first kisses my cheek, their words a haunting ode to a lost goddess; ancient letters adorn the poems they’ve writtten and i consume each syllable feverishly, searching for my likeness within the epigram of their secret love

ig: rosenaufsuden

I was thinking about you. Were you thinking about me too?

chaotic academia is [writes on hand] [ink on ankles] [ink on elbows] [ink on neck] [urge to buy white flowy dresses] [writing unfinished poems] [making a big deal of birthdays] [writing prose and poetry for friends] [forgetting mundane schoolwork] [researching something niche] [reading old queer love letters] [editing a friend's book] [wishing for love] [shouting into the void silently] [reading incessantly]

"Be brave, be curious, be determined, overcome the odds. It can be done” ―Stephen Hawking, Brief Answers to the Big Questions