sleepy afternoons
mom said its my turn to become god
i love when tragedies are like “the love was there. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there”
this post got over 1000 notes in four hours in case anyone was wondering how we are all doing emotionally
must enemies turn into lovers? can't they be the mirror of each other, connected by a defining trait of their character and arc, but ultimately separated by fate or ideology? can't they feel each other's presence in the crowd, a tether, a like calls to like, and at the same time repulsion for the distorted reflection they find in their enemy? can't they be each other's most feared destiny? can't they squash every time they meet the tiny fragment of empathy and connection that refuses to die, despite the opposite ideas, despite the blood, despite and because of the tragedy of it all?
...but my heart longs for the lake house, for the trees around it. I miss these trees so much.
Lake house, 2006
Pictures by dochka_ohotnika
bearfinch
