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Paradise.

loud-heart-quiet-voice:

trippin—daisies:

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bonsa-i:

loveismyjudge:

fucknobadtattoos:


Ran into an old friend, and I ask her what’s new, and she shows me this new tattoo of hers. I immediately thought of you, and asked to take a picture. She says this was done stick-and-poke while she was drunk. Makes me sad. She’s such a nice girl, and it sucks that this happened to her.


“She’s such a nice girl, and it sucks that this happened to her.”… what? It’s such a gorgeous tattoo. I think I love stick and pokes more than any tattoo, there’s something so lovely and real about getting something permanent on your skin in shakey handwriting and 3am, instead of in a font picked from a selection of 1000 on a computer screen at some white washed studio by people you have no connection with. Maybe I’m overly romanticising it but whatever. I like it, I really really do. 

I love it, its such a great tattoo!

Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn’t have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn’t have to be a walk during which you’ll have multiple life epiphanies and discover meanings no other brain ever managed to encounter. Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but “steal” some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.

Albert Camus, from “Notebooks, 1951-1959” (via sampayo)

(via lethemgo)

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