Wanderlust

Be strong, be yourself and never give up!

2,701 notes

Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.
Franz Kafka (via psych-facts)

(via evilvvibes)

946 notes

I’ve been speaking to midnight a lot lately, and she still doesn’t understand why I am crying while reading her the poems you wrote across my chest. She is bad at keeping secrets, and I know this because the moon looks at me with pity, like he has heard something about my bruised heart. I drink coffee every day at dawn. I heard once that it could stunt your growth, and I am not ready to forget you yet. You spoke in three different languages while kissing me but never knew how to talk about love without tripping over your words. Maybe your lips were always clumsy, but I only remember you saying goodbye like you were sure of it. Maybe this isn’t about forgetting you. Maybe it’s about remembering who I was before you poisoned me. I hate the smell of cigarettes now. I hate the way I still find you in the smoke.
Y.Z, Maybe this is what surviving feels like (via rustyvoices)

(via irynka)

17,438 notes


Two years he walks the Earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road.

Two years he walks the Earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road.

(Source: howlmusic, via irynka)

1,348 notes

  1. Lie through your teeth and accept cigarettes, even if you just slide them behind your ear like James Dean. In general pretend to be tougher than your father, blanker and crazier than your mother with her particular interests and phobias. Insist upon the window opened a crack. Write down what you see until you feel sick. They’ll stop. They don’t want you to puke all over the dash. That’s when you get out and wait for a different ride. Number ten is huge. Your survival as a hitchhiker depends upon it. I love you; please don’t die.

from “The Ten Essential Rules of Hitchhiking,” Bhanu Kapil, Incubation: A Space for Monsters 

(i first read this part after not having slept for the night, sitting outside by astor place waiting for two people who would be arriving at such different times, being very very aware of the sunlight and the blue skies and how little i was accustomed to either. i read this part and something inside of me cracked and i wiped at my face because i didn’t realize i was crying. i love you; please don’t die. i love you; please don’t die.) 

(via commovente)

(via irynka)

1,507 notes

1. Travel to Beijing. To Dubai. To Ukraine, to Lord Howe Island in Australia, to Belize, Vietnam. Travel to the cities were the air tastes of stars and humanity. Travel alone. You’ll meet people you’ve read about in books, the ones who say things like “oceans are God’s palms and you are his savior”.

2. Read poetry. Read sonnets, vignettes, haiku’s, limericks, free-verse. Rip out your favorite pages and hide them places. Put Shakespeare in the metro. Charles Bukowski confessions in church corridors. Anne Sexton in your mothers purse.

3. Do drugs. Smoke joints and eat acid and drink tea spiced with mushrooms. Write stories about dyed-red lizards and pastel oceans. Paint your liver, your lungs, your tongue. Listen to music and then realize how silence is the loudest sound of all.

poems from my uncle’s grave  (via irynka)

(via irynka)

543 notes

you were thunder and i was the sea,
i wrote poems about washing machines,
you said i tasted like blue soap and
electric fires, i keep asking the stars
to explode but they won’t leave without
the moon, it’s been six years since
you said i tasted like the universe -
wild, dark, and most importantly,
free
my sister eats acid  (via irynka)

(via irynka)

329 notes

There’s a brief moment when you first wake up where you have no memories, a blissful blank slate, a happy emptiness, but it doesn’t last long and you remember exactly where you are and what you are trying to forget.
Carrie Bradshaw, The Carrie Diaries (via naimabarcelona)

(via evilvvibes)