Pay attention to autumn; before you know it, leaves will be brown and the trees will be skeletons, shivering for winter. The shortest season is the most beautiful.
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In the guest room, deep into the comfortable arm-chair, from the inside autumn is aluminum. I wander around my house, from room to room, kitchen, bedroom, there is all kinds of furniture, I could list them, and you would have sighed: “oh there is every kind”; and you would have asked: “oh what hasn’t she got?”.
It is funny to make an alphabetical list. Armchair, armoire, bed, bookshelf, bureau, carpet, chair, couch, craddle, curtains, cushion, desk, dresser, folding screen, hammock, mirror, rocking chair, rug, sofa, stool, table, throne, wardrobe. I love comfort.
I look around my house for aluminum objects I could rattle with. Maybe in the kitchen, maybe in the attics. I rummage everywhere as if I have never been to this house before, as if I was a thief to my own house. Chaotic here. Is weather chaotic outside? Not at all. It is still and the sky is clear. My house is full of broken furniture. Sometimes I sit so deep in my arm-chair, nobody would ever find me.
I rattle. The metallic rattling should scare the autumn away. So transitory, a compromise of a season. Scarcity of days of which most light is treacherous. Imaginary cellar, absent from home. To be honest, I am more to be spotted at the office. Autumn off, patchy November is as always my grandmother’s birthday. Gossamer, signs of wear, thin wooden pillars of some odd piece of furniture I know no name for, old and fragile, belonging to the garden; it belonged to my great-grandmother, I have it from her.
Fragments of language, comma-seperated, first-hand, short shots, of transcribed impressions.
concept: me, 10 years from now, living in a pretty house with my love, sipping a hot cappuccino on a rainy autumn afternoon. our dog curls up next to me in the window bench while our cat snoozes on the bed. i’m financially stable and i’m never tired anymore. the bees are safe.
There’s nothing in life quite like autumn. Misty mornings and rainy afternoons. The crisp cool feeling that hangs in the air. A sense of warmth that comes from within. It’s nothing less than magical, really.
(via elenamjacobs)
I love autumn.
I adore the soft, dark colours that make you feel so warm in a cold room. I love the knitted sweaters And hats and scarves. I love the noise of boots clacking on the sidewalk. I love the smell of cinnamon
or coffee brewing nearby. I love the breeze that lightly blows as you drink your morning coffee. I love the way you feel so safe and warm in the arms of someone you love. I love Autumn🍁
I concur🍂
Unknown- (via @oldfarmhouse/ fall
A list of sweet sounds.
- The soft laughter of friends gathered around a crackling fire.
- Leaves skittering along the sidewalk.
- Any rain, anywhere.
- Coffee percolating.
- A far-off train in the nighttime.
- Knitting needles clicking.
- Ice cubes clinking into a glass in the summertime.
- A lawnmower in the distance on a Saturday morning.
- Waves crashing into the shore.
- The silence of a snowfall.
Date someone who meets you half way. Date someone who brings you a glass a water when they get themselves one. Date someone who makes sure you don’t spend money on ridiculous things. Date someone your ex hates and your mom loves. Date someone who’d rather spend a Friday night watching movies, than out with 50 people they barley even talk to. Date someone who sleeps on your chest and leaves a little puddle of drool. Don’t date someone who makes you leave oceans of tears.
At the end of the day it’s the little things. (via offtheocean)
*sees the beautiful orange leaves*
*is stressed out because i’m not making the most of it, i don’t know what i’m supposed to do but they will be gone soon and i’m running out of time*
He tastes like cement,
and when he kisses me,
he leaves my heart heavy
and my insides turn grey.
He tears me open,
stitches me together
with strings as fragile
as I have become.
He says “This is sacrifice.”
I say, “This is not what love is.”
This is Not Love // heartofthebitter-mindofapoet (via heartofthebitter-mindofapoet)
*sees the beautiful orange leaves*
*is stressed out because i’m not making the most of it, i don’t know what i’m supposed to do but they will be gone soon and i’m running out of time*
I THOUGHT I WAS ALONE
peachypjm