★゜・。。・゜☆゜・。★。・゜☆ ゜ ☽ 。・゜★・ ゜・。。。・゜☆ ゜・。★ 。・゜☆ ゜・。。・゜★
tired of everybody's bullshit but i love the moon and stars
★゜・。。・゜☆゜・。★。・゜☆ ゜・。。・゜★ ゜・。。。・゜☆ ゜・。★ 。・゜☆ ゜・。。・゜★
★゜・。。・゜☆゜・。★。・゜☆ ゜ ☽ 。・゜★・ ゜・。。。・゜☆ ゜・。★ 。・゜☆ ゜・。。・゜★
tired of everybody's bullshit but i love the moon and stars
★゜・。。・゜☆゜・。★。・゜☆ ゜・。。・゜★ ゜・。。。・゜☆ ゜・。★ 。・゜☆ ゜・。。・゜★
silent girl september… sleepy girl september… solitary girl september…
"Side by side, they were very much alike, in similarity less of lineament than of manner and bearing,
a correspondence of gesture which bounced and echoed between them so that a blink seemed to reverberate, moments later, in a twitch of the other's eyelid.
Their eyes were the same color of gray, intelligent and calm. She, I thought, was very beautiful, in an unsettling, almost medieval way which would not be apparent to the casual observer.“
~ Donna Tartt, The Secret History