The responsive life of una luna

The more one talks, the less the words mean

I didn’t get anything for Christmas. So come on people, I wanna see what you got! show ‘em off.

suzywire:

lickystickypickyme:

lookingatthesky:

thistlegrey:(via ohhsweetwoods)

lookingatthesky:

rememo:(via Baie.)

It’s really hard to equal last night’s awesomeness. When I came back, I couldn’t sleep of excitement. And right now I can’t believe it happened. I don’t really want to think about it, I want it to stay in my memory unaltered. I (was) woke(n) up very early and I don’t want to try to sleep again, one of my eyes is acting reaally weird, guess it’s lack of sleep, but oh my goodness! best night of my youth surely will sound overreacting?

It's raining

I’m going Christmas caroling, heh.

I’m going to be coohold. But it’ll be nice and I’ll be wearing red.

pinpricks:

Alfonse Van Besten

(via pinpricks)

pinpricks

I’ve finished browsing Marisa’s tumblr. It was so good. Among the best I’ve looked through, almost everything is a little gem, there isn’t tons of re blogging (like mine:) ), no contrast to ruin the effect, the little photos create an almost tangible atmosphere.

I know the atmosphere thing is frequently said but it so rarely is true.

(via delicatediaries) (via pinpricks)

the Romanovs

i could live by pizza

that’s so unglamorous of me, i know

“ We all doted on her. She didn’t have to lift a finger, ‘cept to eat a piece of pie. ‘Cept to comb her hair and send away for all the magazines. We must’ve had a hunnerd dollars’ worth of magazines come into that house. Ask me, that’s what done it. Looking at show-off pictures. Reading dreams. That’s what started her walking down the road. Every day she’d walk a little further: a mile, and come home. Two miles, and come home. One day she just kept on. ”

- Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Truman Capote

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