Certain kinds of knowledge rob people of their sleep.
— Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (387)
Maybe home is nothing but two arms holding you tight when you’re at your worst.
— Yara Bashraheel (via sigh-twombly)
The uneasy suspicion that if you heard yourself talking, you would sound like an asshole.
Instead of experiencing our being in the world, we behold it from the outside as spectators of images projected on the surface of the retina.
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