Phrase.
You were the ray of sunlight, on that morning in May, you came through my window, crept through the frosted glass, snuck past my dark brown curtains and said ” Wake up, because I’m waiting for you”.
Posted 1 day ago
"Once Mr. Murphy’s cerebral, melancholy, exactingly rhythmic songs offered listeners a new language with which to explain themselves: sentimental yet ironic, self-mocking, focused on friends and the complicated wages of adulthood. If there was a soundtrack to the last decade of young life in New York City, this was it."
— Zach Baron (via hardboiledatnight)
Posted 2 days ago
"The first draft of anything is shit."
— Ernest Hemingway (via nevver)
(via slowrobots)
Posted 5 days ago