so are you EVER going to tell me what those tattoos on your hips say?!
aaaaaaahahaha. mmmaybe. it’s not that i’m ashamed of them, they’re just… i probably should have thought it through a little more. you would never stop laughing once you found out, too, considering what you already know about me and the apparent conflict between what they say and what i’ve done since then.
I can't find any personal photos or that many personal posts here barre your photography.
Which is amazing, by the by. We'd make great friends purely on that basis alone, although you'd probably get annoyed with me pestering you for photos a lot. I've never been photographed by anything other than a self timer.
i’m pretty sure it’d be the other way around, i’d be pestering you to let me take your picture. so i don’t think that will be a problem.
and i have considered posting some pictures of myself, but i don’t do self-portraits all that often, except with my crappy phone. not sure why that is.
“For sensible men, i prepare only three kraters [of wine]: one for health, which they drink first, the second for love and pleasure, and the third for sleep. After the third one is drained, wise men go home. The fourth krater is not mine anymore - it belongs to bad behavior; the fifth is for shouting; the sixth is for rudeness and insults; the seventh is for fights; the eighth is for breaking the furniture; the ninth is for depression; the tenth is for madness and unconsciousness”—Euboulos
seemingly perfect for a rainy day when my head and heart are kinda in a romantic tizzy for no good reason. is there ever a good reason for feeling like this though? this dumb giddyness about slimmest-hope prospects and grasping for meanings in throwaway gestures?