Brown eyes are wonderful.
There are those light brown eyes which seem to catch every ounce of sunlight and let it reside there. You look at them and they don’t burn, but have this warm glow about them, like cool spring mornings when sunlight paints your bedsheets.
Then there are the medium brown eyes. They are light and dark and seem to change whenever you look at them. These eyes are fiery and ever changing, yet they retain their beauty even on the gloomiest of days.
There are the brown eyes that are mixed with blue or green. They remind me of proud trees with striking leaves scraping across a blue sky.
Some eyes are simply, utterly brown, and their solidarity reminds me of sun-kissed skin and the richest soils. These eyes are refreshing to look at; unchanging and definitive.
And then there are the dark brown eyes; like smooth stone with the sparkle of a diamond. I believe these are the most forgiving, thoughtful eyes, yet they hold the most mystery. These dark eyes can look curious or sleepy, expressionless or full of emotion.
Brown eyes are underrated, yet they are so important.
babyleedle-deactivated20190114
I think what it is about Autumn that we all love so much is the comfort that it brings - I find solace in sitting by the window on brisk October days, wearing a knit sweater, watching the leaves fall, and warming my hands with a coffee mug.
fallsolace (via fallsolace)
Anonymous asked:
why do you keep deleting your posts after two minutes
I’m not the same person that I was 2 minutes ago
SHOOTING EVERYDAY / STEALING BEAUTY/TOM BARKER
Do you ever realize how badly you’re going to miss a moment while you’re living it? Like wow, these are the good days. I am here and I am happy and I feel alive.
(via foreverrwanderlust)
nostalgia-gallery
Yves Saint Laurent at his Christian Dior office (1958)
I fell in love with the way she was so honestly broken; a mess of a girl with the face of a Michelangelo angel.
She was a picture colored without precision, scribbles of color outside the lines.
She was a white t-shirt covered in coffee stains. She was a napkin with a phone number drunkenly scribbled upon its face.
She smoked to die slowly and yet she looked at this ugly world with blue eyes of curiosity and passion. Holes in her old jeans and a collarbone that could cut glass.
She ripped her beating heart out of her chest and placed it in my trembling hands “hear, it’s yours” she said.
She was a dying planet the world knew nothing about. A galaxy inside her mind. Sun in her eyes and a heart bigger than the moon.
I think God made us out of the same star,
ripped our heart in two and gave us each half.
You don’t know what it’s like to live with a broken heart until you find its missing piece beating in someone else’s chest.
indieluhv (via wordsnquotes)
Source: wnq-writers.com
