There Is No Greater Agony Than Bearing An Untold Story Inside You.

Colette, tr. by Matthew Ward, from The Collected Stories; “The Accompanist, //Charles Bukowski

I live by this

Wow it’s scary how relatable this is

Chaotic academia (dark academia without the elegance):

Having one dusty record on the turntable that hasn't been touched in weeks.

Spare change shoved deep into pockets.

Rips in the lining of a wool coat.

Dyeing a shirt black to fit the occasion instead of getting a new shirt.

Listening to the same tape over and over and over.

Taking half an hour to get to the point of your anecdote.

Word vomit.

Bending a paperback in half when you read it.

Bobbing a foot up and down when you sit with your legs crossed.

Tea stains.

Tea rings on every surface.

Empty cups everywhere.

Plants that somehow manage to cling to life.

Piles of newspapers in the bathroom, kitchen, next to the sofa, everywhere.

Old light bulbs because new ones are bright white and inferior.

Being very passionate about many things at the same time.

Knowing a little bit about a lot of things.

Essentially being a glorified hoarder.

Ah I love this

Hamlet’s Vision by Pedro Américo (1893)

Thrifting because why not?

Anyone else live their life through photographs? I certainly do.

home by the sea.. .

i don’t like how endings in real life come on so suddenly without making sense, without much warning. one minute you’re in the middle of something and the next it’s all a very long time ago and you’re a different person and none of it is ever coming back

Snape?

Foggy mornings at Oxford

William Wordsworth, Book VI: The Church-Yard Among the Mountains, from The Excursion (1814)