Lonely is just one word chosen to represent so much
To tell of feelings inside that the senses cannot touch
To tell of feelings inside that the senses cannot touch
همهجا همان چهرههای تکراری، همان حرفهای تکراری. دلم چیزهای متنوعتری میخواست. اینطور شد که به کتاب روی آوردم.
🖋کارن جوی فاولر - باشگاه کتابخوانی جین آستین
@Emood
🖋کارن جوی فاولر - باشگاه کتابخوانی جین آستین
@Emood
#از_اینور_اونور 🌐
وقتی یکی مینویسه «خخخخخخ» دلم میخواد سرشو بذارم لای در به تعداد اون خها درو بکوبم به هم.
Al | @Emood
https://twitter.com/alborz_z/status/889790621107593217
وقتی یکی مینویسه «خخخخخخ» دلم میخواد سرشو بذارم لای در به تعداد اون خها درو بکوبم به هم.
Al | @Emood
https://twitter.com/alborz_z/status/889790621107593217
باید با این واقعیت کنار بیایم که پسرای لاشی خاطرخواهای بیشتری دارن
قـنــدون | @Emood
https://twitter.com/Holyzaraw/status/966211085278892033
قـنــدون | @Emood
https://twitter.com/Holyzaraw/status/966211085278892033
ايده ي عقلانيت ما تنها به اين دليل متقاعد كننده است كه ما دل مان مي خواهد متقاعد شويم. اين فريب آشكار در هر ناظر بي طرفي ممكن است وجود داشته باشد. احساسات و غرايز پايه و اساس تمام تصميمات ماست، تمام اعمال ما، تمام ارزش گذاري هاي ما و نگاهي كه به جهان داريم. شعور و عقلانيت روكش نازكي از رنگ است روي سطحي ناهموار.
🖋كارن جوي فاولر - ژتون قرمز من
@Emood
🖋كارن جوي فاولر - ژتون قرمز من
@Emood
The Feelings
Ludovico Einaudi – Fairytale
fall endlessly like raindrops to the ocean;
Like little soldiers, one after the other,
They fall just as the enemy targets them.
Why am I here?
Why do I tell you this?
Why do these fall in my face when my insides feel nothing?
Then again, what is a smile with happiness in it?
Like little soldiers, one after the other,
They fall just as the enemy targets them.
Why am I here?
Why do I tell you this?
Why do these fall in my face when my insides feel nothing?
Then again, what is a smile with happiness in it?
Some people hate the smell of smoke
To me smoke meant early Thursday morning bongs rips
And the sun fighting it's way through the curtains
His 8 AM shirtless skin against mine and his face in my neck
The way our lips would play and tease each other, longing and smoke on our breath
Until we drifted back into dreams
Because we weren't about to let the morning win
To take that away from us
|Poem : Liv Catherine|
To me smoke meant early Thursday morning bongs rips
And the sun fighting it's way through the curtains
His 8 AM shirtless skin against mine and his face in my neck
The way our lips would play and tease each other, longing and smoke on our breath
Until we drifted back into dreams
Because we weren't about to let the morning win
To take that away from us
|Poem : Liv Catherine|