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Pages stained with coffee rings, thoughts blooming between lines, and light spilling into rooms where art and study meet. A life paced by paragraphs, warmed by stillness.

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I dream my painting and paint my dream and then, i have nature, art and Poetry, if this is not enough what's enough ?

- Vincet Van Gogh

Visit to Art academia is always therapeutic and worth it 🤌❤️

Credits to all amazing artists in the frames

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Martha Gellhorn, from a letter to Ernest Hemingway featured in The Selected Letters of Marth Gellhorn

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I am the type of lover that foresees collapse and dives in headfirst anyway. I am the type of lover that knew who he was all along and loved him anyway. I implored him, I craved him at every moment of the day and every second I did not spend with him was a waste of time to me. I loved him, I knew him, with his blood underneath my nails, tears down my shirt, pulling him into me and mourning his body that was still warm in my arms. I knew he wouldn’t stay from the very beginning, yet I played his game simply to draw him out of himself and to experience him fully as a person. I am rich, but not in the way you’d think, but my biggest pleasure in life is coaxing the life and humanity out of people and to collect their impressions on me and see the world as they do. It’s so beautiful to be human. I wish I could live like they do

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Don't break me down , I've been travelling to hard ☀️

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The moment you decide you are worthy. The universe starts to agree.

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Holding someone’s hand was always my idea of joy. Often before falling asleep - in that small struggle not to lose consciousness and enter the greater world - often, before having the courage to go toward the greatness of sleep, I pretend that someone is holding my hand and I go, go toward the enormous absence of form that is sleep. And when even then I can’t find the courage, then I dream.

Clarice Lispector, The Passion According to G.H

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“People are strange. They’ll lose it over a lukewarm coffee, a slow driver, a delayed train. But when it comes to the big stuff—the years slipping by, the dreams they let rot—they barely flinch. Maybe it’s just easier to throw a fit over the small stuff, vent it out where it’s safe. Because what’s the alternative? Admit the train delay isn’t the real problem? Realise you don’t even want to be on that train, that you’re headed in entirely the wrong direction? Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? Half of us are so busy raging at the small stuff, we never stop to see we’re not even on the right track.”

- Daniel Hopewell

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December 16, 1930 The early diary of Anaïs Nin, 1903-1977

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जब कोई इतना खास बन जाए,

उसके बारे मे ही सोचना एहसास बन जाए,

तो मांग लेना खुदा से उसे जिंदगी के लिए,

इससे पहले के उसकी माँ किसी और की सास बन जाये.

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November passing through me like....

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- jane austen (x)

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I wanna be the woman that everyone stares at whether out of love, hate, or envy. I wanna be the woman who goes for walks every morning with her dog before stopping to grab a quick coffee at a small, cozy café. I wanna be the woman the barista falls in love with at first sight even though I'm a hot, sweaty mess. I wanna be the woman servers want to return every night just to see her. I wanna be the woman who goes to a fine-dinning restaurant by herself because she doesn't need anyone to treat her; she treats herself. I wanna be that woman.