hairyandmature-deactivated20150
She felt a stealing sense of fatigue as she walked; the sparkle had died out of her, and the taste of life was stale on her lips. She hardly knew what she had been seeking, or why the failure to find it had so blotted the light from her sky: she was only aware of a vague sense of failure, of an inner isolation deeper than the loneliness about her.
Edith Wharton, from The House of Mirth, 1905
I mean yes Japanese people get old like this but I can’t I unsee him wearing a wig
thank you lgbt people who are into horror
thank you lgbt people who creates the horror
thank you lgbt people who are the horror
i love saving images onto my cell phone. it’s like picking berries
Vintage French postcard, “L’amour de Pierrot,” c. 1905.
