Posted 1 day ago
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”.
"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)
Posted 5 days ago