tarts

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cass, 21, living with hysteria. hello

all girls should have a poem
written for them even if
we have to turn this god-damn world
upside down to do it
--richard brautigan

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maya

When we die, as when the scenes have been fixed on to celluloid and the scenery is pulled down and burnt — we are phantoms in the memories of our descendants. Then we are ghosts, my dear, then we are myths. But still we are together. We are the past together, we are a distant past. Beneath the dome of the mysterious stars, I still hear your voice.

—jostein gaarder