Sometimes there are ocean waves that look like dead men’s fingertips, beckoning. That’s probably why he jumped off that cliff last Sunday when he was supposed to be singing at church and smiling and, well, alive. At least that’s what the news reports say.
The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.
T.S. Eliot (via dinwos)
wow so this Colombian boy I knew in Chile made me a playlist for my birthday and it has 21songs since I’m turning 21 and it’s called pale blue eyes and its soft jazz and wonderful and just wow