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Apr 25, 2014 / 108 notes

neitherheavenorhell:

We were hiding one day, my mother and I. It was my sixth birthday and she was trying to hide me. Because she knew what he wanted to do to me. I remember her hands were shaking, I remember because I kept looking at her hands. Because she was holding mine to her chest. And she was wearing this ring. I’d never seen much jewelry in my life. I didn’t know what it was, exactly. But she saw me staring and she wanted to distract me, she wanted to keep me entertained.
So she told me a story. A story about a boy who was born with very green eyes, and the man who was so captivated by their color that he searched the world for a stone in exactly the same shade. She said the boy was me. That this ring was made from that very same stone, and that the man had given it to her, hoping one day she’d be able to give it to me. It was his gift, she said, for my birthday. And then she took it off, slipped it on my index finger, and said, ‘If you hide your heart, he will never be able to take it from you.’
It’s the only gift, anyone has ever given to me.

What is this from??

(via everythingbookworm)

There must be something strangely sacred in salt. It is in our tears and in the sea.
Khalil Gibran (via petrichour)
Apr 25, 2014 / 163 notes
Apr 25, 2014 / 31,735 notes

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Apr 25, 2014 / 42,393 notes

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Apr 25, 2014 / 1,418 notes
bittens:

untitled by heddaselder on Flickr.
Apr 25, 2014 / 2,023 notes

bittens:

untitled by heddaselder on Flickr.

(via absinthius)

Apr 25, 2014 / 1,484 notes
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sobbing

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slovver:

the cold never bothered me anyway
Apr 24, 2014 / 63,393 notes

slovver:

the cold never bothered me anyway

(via mindenem)

I once had a thousand desires, but in my one desire to know you, all else melted away.
Rumi (via psych-facts)

(via mindenem)

Apr 24, 2014 / 1,831 notes