Pray love, remember


I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died

Old lovers go the way of old photographs, bleaching out gradually as in a slow bath of acid: first the moles and pimples, then the shadings. Then the faces themselves, until nothing remains but the general outlines. Margaret Atwood, from Cat’s Eye (via wildhorsescouldntdragmeaway)

(Source: saturnrising)

39 notes // January5th 2012 // 18:59
reblogged from goosebumpsfitsandmalaria
originally posted by saturnrising