“It Is Better To Be Yourself And Have No Friends Than To Be Like Your Friends And Have No Self.”

perfectly formulated:

ah november. the thursday of months,

brings my august back.

i’ve been at that exact place about 7 months ago.

The Dnieper. Autumn by Yevhenia Ovsiannykova, 1948

i love you green. i love you forests. i love you smell of damp earth. i love you feeling before the storm breaks. i love you moss. i love you rivers. i love you streams. i love you thunderstorms. i love you sunlight shining through leaves.

I honestly feel that working in a little old bookstore would solve all of my problems.

guys, yesterday in my so-called virtual diary i wrote an extremely spontaneous and emotional thought. “like i don’t belong anywhere. it feels like this all the time”. and here it is. the answer of the fkn tumblr post appearing out of nowhere. do i still have a need to share my feelings with actual people or what?

That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.

~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

Finding old music you used to love is like getting back in touch with an old friend.

Вчора була річниця з дня народження української поетеси Лесі Українки (25.02.1871) та в українського актора й режисера Леся Курбаса (25.02.1887)