rummu. old prison turned into beach. estonia, 2014.
9:03 am • 19 August 2014 • 82 notes
“I have no memory for things I have learned, nor things I have read, nor things experienced or heard, neither for people nor events; I feel that I have experienced nothing, learned nothing, that I actually know less than the average schoolboy, and that what I do know is superficial, and that every second question is beyond me. I am incapable of thinking deliberately; my thoughts run into a wall. I can grasp the essence of things in isolation, but I am quite incapable of coherent, unbroken thinking. I can’t even tell a story properly; in fact, I can scarcely talk.”
— Franz Kafka (via likebookends)
(Source: katemess, via likebookends)
8:37 am • 15 August 2014 • 4,339 notes
The lines roar into snakes, who are less vicious.
They curl and observe, they constrict in affection.
They dance, like we do, they shiver, they spark.
10:40 pm • 14 August 2014 • 1 note