I wish I could throw off the thoughts which poison my happiness. And yet I take a kind of pleasure in indulging them.
I like it when a flower or a little tuft of grass grows through a crack in the concrete. It’s so fuckin’ heroic.
I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me.
I cannot even explain it to myself.
trippy as bro
Catrin Welz-Stein
Unborn Ideas