wystswolf

Mornings are not for answers, but for contemplation and observation.

To be fully seen by someone, and be loved anyhow—this is the miracle of humanity.

You are close to the brokenhearted

There is a stillness before the day begins—and in it, we almost remember who we really are.

Sometimes we return to the dream, not because it’s true, but because it’s the only thing that ever made us feel real.

The deepest thoughts spill into the darkest hours.

You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing.

A hiss and crackle spilled from the speakers after the needle but before the first sonic burst.

Curation is the love language of the quietly observant.

Whatever our souls are made of, these two are the same.