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April 27 2017

olewka

April 26 2017

olewka
Jak dobrze Mogę zbierać
jagody w lesie
myślałem
nie ma lasu i jagód.

Jak dobrze Mogę leżeć
w cieniu drzewa
myślałem drzewa
już nie dają cienia.

Jak dobrze Jestem z tobą
tak mi serce bije
myślałem człowiek
nie ma serca.
— Tadeusz Różewicz
Reposted fromolewka olewka viawecouldbeclose wecouldbeclose

April 24 2017

olewka
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Reposted fromdavid-tennant david-tennant
olewka

April 21 2017

olewka
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Reposted frompiehus piehus viazabka zabka

drakesideheaux:

Remembering u only got one life and you ain’t done shit but have depression 

Reposted fromfrlendzoned frlendzoned viazabka zabka
olewka
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Reposted fromendorfines endorfines viakatastrofo katastrofo
olewka
Reposted fromNaitlisz Naitlisz viafotofob fotofob

April 20 2017

olewka
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wehadfacesthen:

Embrace, photo by Fred Stein, Paris, 1934

Reposted fromLittleJack LittleJack viascorpix scorpix
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Reposted fromministerium ministerium viascorpix scorpix
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Reposted fromMuppet Muppet viascorpix scorpix

April 18 2017

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Reposted fromjanghye-yung janghye-yung viakatastrofo katastrofo
olewka
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Reposted frompiehus piehus viakatastrofo katastrofo
olewka
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byle do Wigilii...
olewka
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Reposted fromAbaddon8 Abaddon8 viakatastrofo katastrofo

April 17 2017

Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.
Sylvia Townsend Warner, The Winter of the Air.
Reposted fromerial erial viafajnychnielubie fajnychnielubie

April 15 2017

olewka
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