Rereading TRC is like coming home to the memory of summers long gone with the honeysuckle in full bloom, and the rope swing that rotted off years ago still swaying in the wind, and your palm stinging from scrapping it climbing a tree but you don’t mind because the sun is warm, and the water cool, and you can hear that friend you loved so hard your little heart could burst with it laughing just behind you, and you know it will never look like this again. Nothing will ever feel this much like home again, and it hurts somethin fierce.
now that i am a real adult i am starting to realise. media lied to me about the availability of rooftops to go hang out on. every day i wish i could be hanging out on a rooftop somewhere looking cool as fuck
Back when I used to walk around my college in a corduroy blazer and slacks I didn't call it "dark academia" I called it "professor drag" and the purpose was to smoothly walk into parts of campus I wasn't supposed to access
Okay listen to me. We’re in the kitchen, the stove is on. Sitting over the fire is a thin shallow pan. I’m making crepes, with ham and spinach. It’s a homemade recipe. Stay with me now. Music is playing. You’re dancing. I’m singing into the spatula. We have crepes and music and we are laughing. Do you get it?