Μην παραμυθιάζεστε, ο Οδυσσέας γύρισε, όταν ήταν ήδη αργά.
ΕΜ. (via elemnv)I like how sleeping next to someone means more than sex sometimes, the body’s way of saying ‘I trust you to be by my side at my most vulnerable time,’ you have no defenses when you are asleep, you tell no lies.
Eric ShawΜπορείς να ερωτευτείς και με τα πιο μικρά πράγματα. Για παράδειγμα, ο τρόπος με τον οποίο πίνει το νερό και το βλέπεις να κατηφορίζει στο λαιμό του. Που φτάσαμε, να ζηλεύουμε το ποτήρι με το οποίο πίνει νερό.
Οι μέρες που ανυπομονούσα να έρθουν πέρασαν, μα εγώ δεν πέρασα καλά.
(via d-o-n-t)He asked me why I love the sea so much. I was startled. I found it peculiar that one had to ask about these things. It is like asking “why should one love?” or “why should one cry?”. Happiness and sadness are two interchangeable concepts, although humans, falsely, assume they are polar opposites. You see, in your sadness you often find a part of your happiness, cunningly hiding between unspoken words and in your happiness, you find a piece of your sadness, trembling and catching its breath under the water. One cannot exist without the other, just like we cannot prosper without one another. If we just terminated all action and let go of all the things we presumably acknowledge, but not know; if we allowed all movements to be ceased by the chastity of the present moment and to be swept away by the waves of superfluous thoughts, if we embraced turbulence and chaos and mingled it with the peace in our hearts, rather than resist it, we’d realize how interconnected everything is. We often ignore the power within, but most of all we scorn the beauty of the universe. Many of us have perfectly functional eyes and brains, but few of us can truly see, or think for that matter. There is an abundance of light in this world, yet we choose to see the darkness. But the sea, the sea, doesn’t let you be blue. It mirrors your sadness and absorbs it like a sponge, and thus its colour. Its energy ebbs and flows so beautifully between each breath, between each kiss it gifts to the shore each second, in exchange for keeping it young and mysterious to creatures like us. I love the sea, because it molds sadness into art. And who could understand us better than her? We are made after all from the same substance. We are as vulnerable to the ever-changing phases of the moon and simultaneously so fierce. We look shallow, but we are deep. We may seem fearsome on the surface, but our essence is pure love and beauty. And thus I cannot help, but wonder: how can one not love something, whose energy contains a drop of their own, whose existence possesses a part of their soul?