Writer in Wonderland

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
mailbox

vves:

how do u get a job if every job requires job experience

(via goodbyemarycrane)

“So she was turned away
To hide her face, her lips, her guilt among the trees,
Even their leaves, to haunt caves of the forest,
To feed her love on melancholy sorrow,
Which, sleepless, turned her body to a shade,
First pale fire and wrinkled, then a sheet of air,
Then bones, which some-say turned to thin-worn rocks;
And last her voice remained. Vanished in forest,
Far from her usual walks on hills and valleys,
She’s heard by all who call; her voice has life.”

—   Ovid, Metamorphoses (via typewriterjazz)

(Source: camilla-macauley, via typewriterjazz)

foulmilk:

loves it

foulmilk:

loves it

(Source: lamorbidezza, via nymfeia)

pinerosolanno:

CR FASHION BOOK #3

pinerosolanno:

CR FASHION BOOK #3

(via xicexax)