© tearofthemoon
Posted on April 27th, 2014 / via sheikahstone / originally morpha
that-valeska:

give me love †
  • My dad: Your sister's crazy. Who'd want a $200 purse?
  • Me: She does.
  • My dad: What is it with ladies purses, anyway?
  • Me: (glancing at my purse) What do you mean?
  • My dad: How did that start--I mean, why do women use them? Doesn't it get tiring carrying a bag around all the time?
  • Me: (stands up and turns around) See those pockets?
  • My dad: ... Yes?
  • Me: What can I fit in them?
  • My dad: What?
  • Me: How many things do you think I could fit in my pockets? Honestly. How many things?
  • My dad: Doesn't look like you could fit much.
  • Me: A pack of Orbit, some folded bills, and that's about it. That's why we use purses--because we can't carry our shit in our pockets like you do.
  • My dad: But I can fit my wallet, my keys, and my cigarettes in my pockets!
  • Me: And your jeans also fit the way they should.
  • My dad: I'm almost afraid to ask, but what do you mean?
  • Me: Your jeans are sized by, what, your inseam and waist, right?
  • My dad: ... Aren't yours?
  • Me: I'm a size 3.
  • My dad: 3 what?
  • Me: No, just a 3. A size 3.
  • My dad: What does that mean?
  • Me: I actually have no idea. I'm a size 3 in these jeans. In some other jeans, I'm a 5. I'm a 7 in my favorite pair of shorts.
  • My dad: Wait, it's not the same?
  • Me: Nope. A size 3 in one brand's jeans is completely different from a size 3 in another brand.
  • My dad: That's fucking stupid! How do you shop for them?!
  • Me: With great difficulty. This is why when you ask me what I did during the week and despite the fact I know you won't care I sometimes tell you I found a pair of jeans. Because finding a pair of jeans that fit and fit well is like finding the Holy Grail with your name encrusted in diamonds on it
"Wolves develop close relationships and strong social bonds. They often demonstrate deep affection for their family and may even sacrifice themselves to protect another member of their pack.”

Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.
Posted on December 28th, 2013 / via moon-womb / originally light-essence
moon-womb:

wearing you always

moon-womb:

wearing you always

Posted on December 28th, 2013 / via moon-womb / originally moon-womb

chibisokka:

reblog if you ARE gay, if you SUPPORT gays, or if you like to OPEN people’s WINDOWS in the middle of the NIGHT and put DOZENS of GEESE in their BEDROOMS

Merry Christmas!!

deathbatsandnecrophilia:

awkwardsituationist:

after an apparent attack by a fox, a street cat named bob was found injured and curled up in the hallway outside of a support housing flat in tottenham were james bowen, a recovering heroin addict and homeless busker, was staying. james took the cat in, got him to the rspca, and nursed him back to health using what little drug money he had for antibiotics.

but in the process, bob helped to nurse james back to health as well, giving him a reason to get up in the morning and get clean. since his recovery, bob has refused to leave james side, following him everywhere for the last six years.

thanks to a literary agent who passed him on the streets, james has since written an international bestselling book about his hardships and friendship with bob. “we’re two injured souls looking for someone we can trust,” james says. done in collaboration with the writer garry jenkins from an islington café, the book also attempts to dispel some of the social stigma that goes with homelessness.

photos by silvertony45 and analog photos

I’ve seen this man a fair few times! Oh, I hope I see him again so I can talk to him.