私はバン。二十三さい。

I once thought that if all I did was lie on the floor in the dark with zero expectations, life would be a lot less complicated. Clearly, I was wrong. Utterly and completely so.

I actually don’t want you to know anything about me at all.

Don’t leave me messages, it makes me anxious as fuck.

 

clcero:

i dont even have guilty pleasures anymore i just like stuff and if people have a problem with that they can go fuck themselves


"Remember (walking in the sand)": Dree Hemingway by Boo George for Love Magazine F/W 2010

"Remember (walking in the sand)": Dree Hemingway by Boo George for Love Magazine F/W 2010

(Source: tobaccochic)

An empty space is marked off with plain wood and plain walls, so that the light drawn into it forms dim shadows within emptiness. There is nothing more. And yet, when we gaze into the darkness that gathers behind the crossbeam, around the flower vase, beneath the shelves, though we know perfectly well it is mere shadow, we are overcome with the feeling that in this small corner of the atmosphere there reigns complete and utter silence; that here in the darkness immutable tranquility holds sway. The "mysterious Orient" of which Westerners speak probably refers to the uncanny silence of these dark places. And even we as children would feel an inexpressible chill as we peered into the depths of an alcove to which the sunlight had never penetrated. Where lies the key to this mystery? Ultimately it is in the magic of shadows. Were the shadows to be banished from its corners, the alcove would in that instant revert to mere void.

Jun’ichirõ Tanizaki, In Praise of Shadows (via fuckyeahexistentialism)