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To jesień. Dźwięki za oknem są wyraźniejsze, o dwudziestej jest ciemno, sama bluza nie wystarcza, a mnie jest tak bezmiernie smutno. I stopy mi marzną. Herbata szybciej stygnie. Cera blednie. Wieczorne piwo na ławce mrozi w dłoń.  -m.basak
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99lv new yorker
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Reposted fromliteracja literacja viagr8dizaster gr8dizaster
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me: sad because I’m not productive me: not productive because I’m sad
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bestabandoned:

Abandoned post office, Darwin, California - Ed Freeman

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Popołudnia w sierpniu pachną już jesienią.
— Małgorzata Musierowicz "Ida sierpniowa"
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