and then,
as if written by the hand of a bad novelist, an incredible thing happened.
sam. 21. istp.
prveviously aromanticreyna
ask about tags books

vsarashi:

“If you found a person…you could just hold them, couldn’t you? You could sit close to them, nestle into them so you could hear the machine of them churning away. You could press your ear against that person’s back, listening to the rhythm of them, knowing that you were both made of the exact same stuff.”

— Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home

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