In which she's inspired by everything she sees, everyone she meets.


[*none of this is mine unless otherwise stated]

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish it’s source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

—Anais Nin (via kari-shma)