“ And the stars blinked as they watched her carefully jealous of the way she shone. ”
I hope to arrive at my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.
~ Atticus Poetry
I worry there is something broken in our generation,there are too many sad eyes on happy faces.
We are made of all those who have built and broken us.
Brushing a girl’s hair behind her earonce a daywill solve more problemsthan all thosetherapists and drugs.
