Doomed By The Narrative But Not To Death. Doomed To Survive. Doomed To Stay Alive Inside The Story. Doomed

that pose was too cute, had to make it fitzier...

— March 9, 1912 / Franz Kafka diaries

Oh, what a happy fate, to sit in the silent room of an ancestral house among the quiet things in their abiding places, and to hear the tits sounding their first notes outside in the green and sun-shot garden, and away in the distance the village clock. To sit and gaze upon a warm strip of afternoon sunlight and to know a great deal about girls from the past and to be a poet. And to think that I too might have become such a poet if I had been able to live somewhere, anywhere on earth, in one of the many closed-up country houses that no one looks after. I would have required only one room (the sunny room under the gables). There I would have lived with my old things, my family portraits, my books. And I would have had an armchair and flowers and dogs and a stout stick for the stony paths. And nothing else. Nothing but a book bound in yellowish, ivory-coloured leather with old-style floral endpapers: in this I would have written.

from The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge by Rainer Maria Rilke

It's him. Your beautiful scurvy riddled wife.

thinking… about… um

recurring gifsets of the character on my highly personalized tumblr dash save me

“JAW BONE” MOUTHPIECE | S/S 1998 SHAUN LEANE for ALEXANDER MCQUEEN

“Cast and polished aluminum, with broken and missing teeth, attached to the face with curved metal ear-loops and hooks.” [width: 6″]

I just think blood’s neat :]