by Kuba Fiedorowicz
(Source: theartof-escapism, via whatta-weirdo-deactivated201212)
Life has to be a love song; if it is not, it is not life at all, it is only a slow death. It is dragging. One exists but one does not live. Life becomes a life only when your heart starts singing songs of love, when a poet is born in you and when a love affair starts with existence.
That’s…
(via lazyyogi)
View high resolution
I never remember why I have band-Aid on my forehead. I’m guessing it’s one of my birthday “dresscode”