(Source: effys-photos)

Dogs are our link to paradise. They don’t know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring—it was peace.
Milan Kundera (via dogs-dogs-dogs)
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I DONT CARE THIS IS CATCHY AS FUCKKKK  

So please ask yourself: What would I do if I weren’t afraid? And then go do it.
Sheryl Sandberg, Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead (via larmoyante)

inbalanced:

me:

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you:

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joeydeangelis:

Sylvan Esso
"Coffee"
Coffee/Dress

white winters, warm coffee

I don’t think ive ever stared so hard at something. It was motionless, but I knew that beyond my vision there was a surplus of movement, of darting lights and walking people, of swooshing trees, and speeding cars. There was a sonata of heartbeats playing beneath my feet, im still convinced that’s what made the rising heat sway above the buildings. It was one of those brief moments where you try to capture every noise, every feeling, that exact picture, and stow it far back in your mind, tape it to the back of your skull, so on ugly days you can pull it out and smile. No photograph can ever compare to the scene that exists behind the screen of my eyelids. No words can ever describe how the balmy air brushed past my cheeks, streaked my blonde hair, sunk into my skin; I can still feel it pulsing under the layers of flesh, intermingling in my blood until it dilutes the icy Buffalo breezes trapped in my veins. It was beautiful. And right there I decided that I wanted to live in Los Angles, just how when I went to New York City I decided I wanted to live there, just how when I went to Boston I decided I wanted to live there, just how when I went to Lexington I decided I wanted to live there, just how I fell in love with Las Vegas and Panama City and Phoenix. Instead though, in two weeks I’ll being moving to Worchester, Massachusetts, and be bringing my winter boots and coats and text books and soul. And Im sure I will fall in love with that too. I think that’s the great thing about the world though, almost any place can seem magical, for one reason or another. And maybe I’ll live in all those places, or maybe ill never move, or go across seas. It doesn’t really matter, because in that moment all that was real were the palm trees and the sunset over the San Gabriel Mountains and awe that rushed from my being. After all, there must be a reason it’s called the City of Angles.