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درحال زیستنی بی فروغ، کهنه و زرد بود.

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— Haruki Murakami, from “Dance, Dance, Dance.”

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“Golden October declined into sombre November…”

T.S. Eliot, Murder in the Cathedral

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nights are getting colder; the cold enters my home and loneliness follows. i crave warmth.

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روزم رو چطوری شروع می‌کنم؟ با خودانزجاری و خودانزجاری بیشتر.

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peel me from the skin
tear me from the rind
does it make u happy now?

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I don’t like morning people. Or mornings. Or people.

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