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i have spent all my life resisting the desire to end it.

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L’amour, c’est se regarder soi-même à travers une vitre couverte de buée. L’amour, c’est écarter certaines choses : là où la vie grogne et renifle, l’amour se contente de soupirer.

Margaret Atwood, Le tueur aveugle (via prosedumonde)

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who wants to come with me to pick wildflowers in a late august thunderstorm where our hair clings to our necks and our thin flowing dresses grow sheer and raindrops rest on our eyelashes and our toes dig into the mud and the lavender glows through the mist and everything seems eerie but also so calm

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What did you just call me? Cunt? Like the philospher?

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Gougane Barra, West Cork by Dulaman

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Cinema Paradiso, 1988

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Louise Glück

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“I write because you exist.”

— Michael Faudet

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All rights reserved by cadreg@tt on Flickr

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The Assistant (2019) dir. Kitty Green

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