wooden antlers

mere musings and fragments of unfinished thoughts; content on having a love affair with an ice cream sandwich

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked… I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (via misswallflower)

(via marleigiela)

pradaphne:

Magda Laguinge photographed by Jens Langkjaer for Rika #9 Fall 2013.

pradaphne:

Magda Laguinge photographed by Jens Langkjaer for Rika #9 Fall 2013.

(via ernests)

2 weeks ago