Biblioteca Braidense By Girlgoneabroad.

Obsessed with the idea of sacrifice in a book being a selfish act rather than a selfless one. Their lover screaming at them: “How dare you leave me in this barren world? How dare you take away my choice to die for you and leave me with this grief?”. They are dead, and their lover is left - a gaping wound - bleeding into the ground. Do they love them so much that they would die for them, or do they love them so much that they forced the other to live without them? Sacrifice as a bitter act. Sacrifice as something wildly violent; something tormentingly cruel — but always, always built on love. Perhaps, they are both martyrs in the end.

Marwan & Khaled Fall 2018 Couture

No matter how many times i read and finish a book i'll never get used to the feeling of that suffocating hollowness that brews inside me.

That seeping realisation that

that's all it was

a book.

Ahem, I may or may not have read far too many novels recently. How do I know this? I have now developed a slight crush on my academic rival in school. Goodness.

An Ode to Pools of Moonlight

Shimmering lace

Falls to the floor,

Like a spool of silk

Unraveling,

Revealing a dimension

Not thought of,

Not seen.

The stars melt into your waterfall

That ebbs and flows

In turn

With the tide.

A million darlings wish on your missiles,

Your projectiles of light,

Falling through the sky.

Your same image

Reflects upon the Earth,

Ever shining,

Above us all

Like a silver thread

Connecting humanity.

An Ode to Rays of Sun

Sweet, mellifluous rays of sunlight

seep through every crack, every seam

invading every crevice, every nook

until there is no space for night.

A million threads,

golden as fresh honey,

bright as a thousand suns,

tether me to the sky.

The shine of silk or velvet,

the beauty of a field of dandelions,

the yellow light,

sends a haze over everything,

obscuring all that is not good.

The morning is acissmus,

the night, a palimpsest.

Until you see the stars.

Oh, the stars deserve their own poem.

I cannot do them justice as a simple end to another.

How can one call themselves human without being enamored with the heavens?

carpe noctem

Women

"Women, they have minds, they have souls"

"the wholeness after everything toppled."

"I’m so sick of people saying love

is just all a woman is fit for."

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as understood."

"And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself,

because I could find no language to express them in."

"The poets are always correct,"

"What an effort to keep alive."

"The Revolution will end with the perfection of happiness."

but.

"The stars in their courses"

"fight against us, my friend."

“ ..The sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.. ”

- Virginia Woolf “To the Lighthouse” 1927

lots of credit to @historiansecrets

Hi! I'm going to be in London visiting family at the end of June for a week and was wondering if you had any cool recommendations (museums, bookstores, etc.) I've already seen all the main parts of London like Buckingham Palace and Big Ben and the London Eye, but I want to see if I can find any cool hidden gems :)

hi, hello, hi -- london is soooo massive there's no end to the things to see... these aren't hidden gems but they're a bit different from central, the west end and all that, a bit more like places where people who live in london go

columbia road flower market

broadway market

brick lane

peckham rye lane

brixton village

borough market

galleries

peer

maureen paley

whitechapel gallery

raven row

south london gallery

across these spots you will find fab cafes, food and bookshops like brick lane books, libreria books, books peckham, bookmongers, round table books and so on.