How many stories can be told by the wheat swaying in the last flickers of sunlight? How many voices carried, like flotsam on the surf, to how many eardrums, ready like shorelines to absorb them? What will the grass look like that carries our story? What will the voices whisper when they speak of us?
(Source: hillarydiane, via jelly-noodle)
(Source: positivelynoteworthy, via blua)
(Source: infelice, via jelly-noodle)
“Eat like you love yourself.
Move like you love yourself.
Speak like you love yourself.
Act like you love yourself.”
Tara Stiles (via loveyourchaos)
(via loveyourchaos)
(Source: klarally, via siennarhea)
Lips
(via blua)
