Tuana, 22. Hi :)






"Oh, you know girls just mature faster than boys."

Hmm did you ever consider

that might be because boys’ indiscretions are excused with a simple “Boys will be boys,”  

while we simultaneously force girls to grow up too fast by sexualizing them at increasingly younger ages?


Ta da

I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words.
Unknown (via agonize)
You know when, sometimes you meet someone so beautiful, and then you actually talk to them and five minutes later, they’re as dull as a brick? Then there’s other people, and you meet them and you think, ‘Not bad; they’re okay.’ And then you get to know them, and their face sort of becomes them, like their personality is written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful.
Rory’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.
Amy Pond (The Girl Who Waited)


ph. by christaan felber

     No one before Bernini had managed to make marble so carnal. In his nimble hands it would flatter and stream, quiver and sweat. His figures weep and shout, their torses twist and run, and arch themselves in spasms of intense sensation. He could, like an alchemist, change one material into another - marble into trees, leaves, hair, and, of course, flesh.  
     -   Simon Schama’s Power of Art. Bernini



“I have these dreams, you know, that I’m standing on a platform, and you keep going by on a train. And you go by, and you go by, and you go by, you go by. And I wake up with the fucking sweats, you know. And then I have this other dream, oh, where you’re pregnant in bed beside me naked. And I want so badly to touch you, but you tell me not to, and then you look away. And I touch you anyway, right on your ankle, and your skin is so soft that I wake up in sobs, all right, and my wife is sitting there looking at me, and I feel like I’m a million miles from her. And I know that there’s something wrong, you know, that I can’t keep living like this, that there’s gotta be something more to love than commitment. But then I think that I might’ve given up on the whole idea of romantic love, that I might have put it to bed that day when you weren’t there. You know, I think I might’ve done that.”

I want you to
slowly crawl between
my legs
and then
speak your tongue into
me until
all of the
neighbors know your name