city lights.

Too late, my time has come Sends shivers down my spine, body’s aching all the time Goodbye, everybody, I’ve got to go Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth

Like to charge, reblog to cast

windows of Barcelona, collage by Andre Vicente Goncalves

“He is incredibly skillful, intelligent as a player and can always surprise his opponent. It all seems so, so easy for him but it comes from his exceptional timing. He is an extremely good passer, and an outstanding finisher.”

The Impala + scenery

All the little landscape sketches I’ve done so far.

you’ll forget me

I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me. If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth. As if he had heard me, he reached for my hand. I did not need to look; his fingers were etched into my memory, slender and petal-veined, strong and quick and never wrong. “Patroclus,” he said. He was always better with words than I.

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Sara Teasdale, from “Those Who Love,”  written c. January 1923 (via weltenwellen)

don’t