|—||Nicholas Sparks, Dear john (via aapiee)|
|—||Nicholas Sparks (Dear John)|
behind the scenes, before coffee,
before the sun, when your hair
is a fright and your skin
is still dented by the mattress seam.
I want to touch you then,
when you’re prickly and unshaven,
when you’re half dressed, or less,
when you’re unmade and distracted
and every bit yourself. I want to see you
getting yourself ready for others.
I want to live in that place. I want to
be with you, behind the scenes, knowing
I’m not one of the others.
|—||Peregrine (via youreyesblazeout)|
I believed that our love
could have saved those
who never had the strength
to save themselves.
"Rajesh Kumar is a shopkeeper by profession but spends hours every morning teaching around 80 children from the poorest of the poor in India’s capital. The 43-year-old visited the construction of the Delhi transit station a few years ago and was disturbed by the sight of many children playing at the site instead of attending school.
When he questioned the parents working at the sites they all said there were no schools in the vicinity and no one cared. Consequently, his open-air class room was born - between pillars and beneath the tracks of the Delhi transit system, known as the Metro.
Every few minutes a train passes above, the children unperturbed by its sounds. There are no chairs or tables and the children sit on rolls of polystyrene foam placed on the rubble. Three rectangular patches of wall are painted black and used as a blackboard.
Anonymous donors have contributed cardigans, books, shoes and stationery for the children, as their parents cannot afford them. One unnamed individual sends a bag full of biscuits and fruit juice for the pupils every day - another incentive for the children to turn up for their studies.”
Thank you, frenchchairs.
|—||Haruki Murakami (via psych-facts)|
I will reblog this every single time
|—||Doug Dillon (via mirroir)|