You were an illusion in a void. You were the living image of the entire Platonic shadow show, an illusion that could fill my own emptiness with marvellous, imaginary things as long as, just so long as, the movie lasted, and then all would all vanish. This world had never been sufficient for you; to go beyond the boundaries of flesh had been your occupation and so you had become nothing, a wraith that left only traces of a silver powder on the hands that clutched helplessly at your perpetual vanishings.
If a man has to say trust me, Gogu conveyed, it’s a sure sign you cannot. Trust him, that is. Trust is a thing you know without words.
No cochilo vespertino, quente e pesado, sonhei com voce.
Com conversas que poderiamos ter.
Com sorrisos grandes, bonitos e sinceros, ainda que timidos.
Com abracos longos e tenros. Apertados.
Tenho lhe visto com frequencia, em minhas preces e sonhos.
Tenho lhe colocado em todos meus pensamentos bons, nas oracoes, ainda que singelas.
Tenho lhe querido bem, assim, de graca. Sem saber porque, sem que voce saiba.
(Source: urbnite, via unejeunedemoiselle)
Your life is an occasion. Rise to it.
One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.
(Source: mostlymarilynmonroe, via sharontates)
Grace Kelly, 1954. Photographed by Loomis Dean
(via solo-vintage)
Girly random stories (often boring), cliches and images.
