I would like to mark today by saying that I finally did a successful jump-through in yoga this morning! A class I very nearly skipped and then completely surprised myself :-) I think because I had no expectations. And my yoga teacher gave me a high five!

You are all the fight
and flame driven desire
that’s left inside me.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #757 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I want rainfall and I want your hair soaked in it.  I want green grass and light pouring in through tree branches and slow steady steps towards me.  I want the sound of nothing when it’s shared with you, I want to gasp as nothing always becomes something when your hand is in my hand and the night unfolds.  I want movies that play as we don’t bother watching them and I want kisses in the back of the theater when we forget people can see. I want popcorn spills and candy hands and the stillness we swear lives around us.  I want the noise rustling grocery bags make when you try to squeeze them to all be carried in one trip and I want the fullness of pantry shelves and I want the standing with hands on hips and long stares into them to unearth the secret of what dinner will consist of.  I want the slow motion fall of hair that was cut and I want the chuckling laughter when you cut a spot too short.  I want to watch the broom sweep back and forth and forth and back and I want to hold the dustpan to catch the cast aside pieces of me you no longer thought I needed.  I want your feet in my hands and my thumbs sore from pressing out the hours you spent on them.  I want laughter that comes on so suddenly that everyone around us thinks our tears are of sorrow and our breath abandoned us like we were sinking ships and the sea was filled with lifeboats.  I want to be the mirror that watches you disapprove of yourself and I want to be the voice that comes in at the perfect moment to say how beautiful the exact spot you didn’t know I knew you were staring at is.
Part Three.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #757 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

I want rainfall and I want your hair soaked in it.  I want green grass and light pouring in through tree branches and slow steady steps towards me.  I want the sound of nothing when it’s shared with you, I want to gasp as nothing always becomes something when your hand is in my hand and the night unfolds.  I want movies that play as we don’t bother watching them and I want kisses in the back of the theater when we forget people can see. I want popcorn spills and candy hands and the stillness we swear lives around us.  I want the noise rustling grocery bags make when you try to squeeze them to all be carried in one trip and I want the fullness of pantry shelves and I want the standing with hands on hips and long stares into them to unearth the secret of what dinner will consist of.  I want the slow motion fall of hair that was cut and I want the chuckling laughter when you cut a spot too short.  I want to watch the broom sweep back and forth and forth and back and I want to hold the dustpan to catch the cast aside pieces of me you no longer thought I needed.  I want your feet in my hands and my thumbs sore from pressing out the hours you spent on them.  I want laughter that comes on so suddenly that everyone around us thinks our tears are of sorrow and our breath abandoned us like we were sinking ships and the sea was filled with lifeboats.  I want to be the mirror that watches you disapprove of yourself and I want to be the voice that comes in at the perfect moment to say how beautiful the exact spot you didn’t know I knew you were staring at is.

Part Three.

You’ll meet her. She’s very pretty, even though sometimes she’s sad for many days at a time. You’ll see, when she smiles, you’ll love her.

Pan’s Labryrinth (via marcescentfleur)

(Source: kbass2112, via ijustdomything)

the free soul is rare, but you know it when you see it - basically because you feel good, very good, when you are near or with them.

Charles BukowskiTales of Ordinary Madness (via feellng)

(via knowsomebetters)

No Micheal Kors just Tom Ford

Saint Tropez, I’m like ‘bonjour’

In Spain wearing that Balmain

Lanvin, Givenchy

On the top floor of that penthouse
I got ten toes in that concrete
Keep it G with the money,

You knew I was high class ass when you met me

I’m a fancy bitch but I’m ratchet

Don’t try me, man, you know I will!

(Source: Spotify)

I’m way too blessed to be stressed

Iggy Azalea, ‘Fuck Love’
whattahamiam:

 

You guys, being an adult sucks. 

10 Amazing Men Who Prove That Beards Aren't A Fading Trend

“We may well be at peak beard.”

The warmth of your love’s like the warmth from the sun

The OK Go cover of this song is good too. 

Pete: Sometimes I think I died. And I donno if it's heaven or hell or limbo... but I don't seem to exist. No one feels my existence.
Ted: Just cash the checks. You're going to die someday.
Bebe bunny

Bebe bunny

(Source: dailydoseofstuf)