yes

“We’re not dating, but we’ve come to trust each other in such a way that when people look at us they think, ‘Oh, they’re so close. They must be a couple.’ But an intimate relationship doesn’t have to be sexual—he turns me on intellectually and we wholeheartedly enjoy each other’s company. We feel that we’re each other’s surrogate true loves.”

- Portraits Of Boston

friday night//500 miles

How beautiful is this song?
x

x

i'm getting better//my old self

"I can never say what I want to say," continued Naoko. "It's been like this for a while now. I try to say something, but all I get are the wrong words - the wrong words or the exact opposite words from what I mean. I try to correct myself and that only makes it worse. I lose track of what I was trying to say to begin with. It's like I'm split in two and playing tag with myself. One half is chasing the other half around this big, fat post. The other me has the right words, but this me can't catch her." She raised her face and looked into my eyes. "Does this make any sense to you?"
"Everybody feels like that to some extent," I said. "They're trying to express themselves and it bothers them when they can't get it right."

- Norwegian Wood, Murakami

scratch my back & tell me a story.

well, honey, scratch my back and tell me a story,
written with the tips of your fingers.
a story no one will ever know but you, though i try and guess.
i get it wrong each time,
i can feel "i love you" but i don't tell you, smiling into my pillow.
push back my fringe, and say nothing. that gesture alone is enough,
enough to get the heart racing, and the heart knowing.
let's buy hot chocolates and stare out the window at people,
making up stories, laughing,
speaking as if we are them.
tell me about your childhood friends, embarrassing stories about yourself,
that i find endearing, and you find horrifying.
embrace me,
really embrace me.
rub my cold feet & hands between yours; keeping me warm will be your mission for tonight.
scratch my back and tell me a story,
written with the tips of your fingers.

george//henry//love

Henry sat up and looked out to sea. "Maybe happiness is just finding the right people at the right time."
"But how do you find them?" George said.
"Just run them over."
George was then suddenly interested. "But say you do find the right people - how do you love without smothering them?"
Henry looked uncertain.
"How do you not suffocate them with all the love you've built up in their absence?" George said.
Henry thought for a moment. "You don't," he said. "And that's the whole point - it works in a way it just wouldn't with other people." 

- Everything Beautiful Began After, Simon Van Booy

the disappearance of eleanor rigby.

"Where are we?"

"Some place good."