There's something to be said about a glass half full. About knowing when to say when. I think it's a floating line. A barometer of need and desire. It's entirely up to the individual. And depends on what's being poured. Sometimes all we want is a taste. Other times there's no such thing as enough, the glass is bottomless. And all we want is more.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Want this room!!
(Source: lettertoheart)
(Source: leahhkaye)
(Source: -theperfectmistake)
(Source: thehungerartist)
But I must admit I miss you quite terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby. I go to bed early and rise late and feel as if I have hardly slept.
Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters
(Source: acynicalcunt)
Luca- newest edition to the Rettenberger family. (Taken with instagram)
(Source: justwait)
(Source: whiskeysoaked)
A lovely bedtime story.
I met a tree once, when I was a child, and we became friends. I had shelter when I was scared, shade when I was tired, and grounds when I wanted to play.
The tree had someone to protect, and felt movement it couldn’t without the wind.
It was the movement that the tree really wanted. It saw the birds who would perch on its leaves and begged me to let it be more like them. I didn’t know then how to help, and I had need for a home. So I cut the tree and moved it.
I build a home for my family and treated the tree as I always had. Used it for the same purpose.
The tree loved me for it. It felt my children play on it, and felt the movement when I made love to my wife. The tree moved like never before.
Once my children were grown, and my wife gone from age, the tree begged again to feel movement, to be more like the birds.
Much wiser now, I knew how to help this age old friend of mine. I climbed into bed with my stove still burning.
My house, my friend and myself burned to ash. And our ash floated up, we rose with the heat.
We’ve become more than the tree ever asked for. We’ve surpassed the birds. We move with freedom, and my friend has loved me for it since.
(Source: thr-ill)
The Trick
You could practice with
things that do not break
but you insist on using our best.
Crystal and silver,
candles and flowers.
Everything that matters
placed on the white tablecloth.
You’ve set the table for an occasion
Not a dinner filled with conversations
about the events of our day.
Just the trick.
In your mind
you have done it many times.
Nothing ever breaks, in your mind.
But the cloth is in your firm grip,
ready to pull.
I want you to pause,
to consider consequence.
To imagine everything
Broken
and on the floor.
