(Source: screensnaps)
(Source: Spotify)
“I’ve reproduced the tale here not just because I invariably go out of my way to recommend a good prose pacifier to parents or older brothers of ten-month-old babies but for quite another reason. What directly follows is an account of a wedding day in 1942. It is, in my opinion, a self-contained account, with a beginning and an end, and a mortality, all its own. Yet, because I’m in possession of the fact, I feel I must mention that the bridegroom is now, in 1955, no longer living. He committed suicide in 1948, while he was on vacation in Florida with his wife… Undoubtedly, though, what I’m really getting at is this: Since the bridegroom’s permanent retirement from the scene, I haven’t been able to think of anybody whom I’d care to send out to look for horses in his stead.”
—
J.D. Salinger, Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters
work was really boring today so I read this story on a weird russian website and I forgot how heartbreaking it is and I was almost crying by the end of this paragraph
Also: “I was not only twenty-three but a conspicuously retarded twenty-three.”
yesterday I made these lemon sponge cups and I feel like a magical food witch
I’ve been driving around with this blasting in the car being like, yeah it’s almost summer, yeah I’m a chill lady.
I couldn’t figure out what this was and then I realized it’s a screenshot I took because I really liked Tara’s lace bedspread.
#witchvibes
