— Charlotte Brontë, from “Jane Eyre.”

"Gardening with the Son I Will Never Have", Ocean Vuong, Burnings

drop dead - olivia rodrigo (taken that eurostar to france) spotify music video

— Michael Faudet

i will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery with chasteness of sea-girls Will i complete the mystery of my flesh I will rise After a thousand years lipping flowers And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

pink winter mood board

The plum you’re going to eat next summer doesn’t exist yet; its potential lives inside a tree you’ll never see in an orchard you’ll never see, will be touched by a certain number of water droplets before it reaches you, by certain angles of light, by a finite amount of bugs and dust motes and hands you’ll never know. The plum you are going to eat next summer will gather sugar, gather mass, will harden at its center so it can soften toward your mouth. The plum you’re going to eat next summer doesn’t know you exist. The plum you are going to eat next summer is growing just for you.

John Banville, Ancient Light

Jorge Luis Borges, "Music Box", from Selected Poems

Princess Cynthia Corset - code PAMMY to save

photographed by miranda barnes

The Ivory Victorian Tea Skirt (code: PAMMY)