ุตุงุฑุญูู ๐
Message From: 9548 ุจุดุฑู
@ุจูุด ุชุนุงูู๐๐ค
ุนูู ุฃู
ู ุฃู ููุชูู ุงูุนุงู
ุจุดูุก ููุฌุจุฑูู.
โูุง ุชุชุฑููุง ุงููุงุณ ู
ู ุบูุฑ ุงุณุจุงุจ ูุงุถุญู ุ ูุง ุงุญุฏ ูู ุงูุฏููุง ูุณุชุญู ุงู ููุงู
ู ูู ูุดุนุฑ ุจุฃูู ูู
ููู ูุงููุงโ
the smell of rain and wet trees โ the smell of the last days of November.
Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years (trans. Philip ร Ceallaigh)
Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years (trans. Philip ร Ceallaigh)
Donโt lose a woman that has seen your flaws and still loves you.
I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointmentโwe are all defined by something we canโt change.
Iโd much rather have one great person to talk to every night than have several pointless conversations with temporary people.
And when you told me what your favorite book was, I bought it and read it over and over... trying to find pieces of you in it.
And if you call me at 4 am, too sad to even say hello, I will listen to your silence until you fall asleep.
You know you are on the right track when you become uninterested in looking back.