reality: 12 am in vienna. so quiet I forget I’m not in the capital of music. but wait: the cricket by the window, the soft hum of a rotating fan, the sound of running water through a bathroom door. I’m wearing a fancy dress studded with stars and I’m dancing in my mind to an imaginary waltz. rose-colored wine drying up in a bell glass. the magical, beautiful, summer kind of wonderful aria is still resonating in my ears, but I’m too tired to conduct the way the world sings tonight. I sink back in the couch, a faithful audience ‘til the end.
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the kind of softness that comes with bare legs in cotton sheets and the breeze in your window humming a low nighttime summer song
Your eyes were the color of summer fading into autumn.
(via nofeelingsnoproblemss)
“Thirty-six years old and he knows less than when he started. With the difference that now he knows how little he’ll always know.”
- John Updike, Rabbit Redux
via @quotespile

