(Source: cigrette, via modernhepburn)
- June 20 2012 | 13514 Notes - Read More →
(Source: cigrette, via modernhepburn)
If there is a room inside of me with your name written in it, the language is a lovely one. One of figs and birds and...
"At the beginning of each evening I was nervous and shy, worried that I had nothing to contribute to the group, but then I'd settle into my skin and my voice. By midnight, I would be part of things, ready to drink like a sailor and talk until morning. It was like being born over each night, the same process repeated, finding myself, losing myself, finding myself again." - The Paris Wife
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