Cartoline Da Londra

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Devo ricominciare a scrivere. 

Anche se non sono più a Londra e questa cartoline rimarranno non inviate tra la polvere della mia scrivania.

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I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.
Jenna, Waitress (via bl-ossomed)

(Source: wordsthat-speak, via adrenaline)

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Shafts of sunlight penetrate through upper windows of the Vaulted room of Grand Central Terminal, as crowds gather near the information kiosk on the Terminal concourse, c. 1935-1941. (via)

Shafts of sunlight penetrate through upper windows of the Vaulted room of Grand Central Terminal, as crowds gather near the information kiosk on the Terminal concourse, c. 1935-1941. (via)

(Source: vintagegal, via vintagegal)

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If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us.
Hermann Hesse, Demian (via quotes-shape-us)