Human voices.

Listen and learn. I love T.S. Eliot.

Here.

Sanctuary.

Wilber stood behind the glass window with an indifferent facial expression, his hot cocoa forming steam streaks on the glass panes. He shifted his weight, rocking from heel to toe as his small russet coloured sausage dog, Alfredo, lingered around his worn in boat shoes.

The small cottage nestled in the heart of the city seemed odd in its squatness as the bland grey buildings stretched up towards the sky that seemed so full of life and wonder.

The rooms of the cottage smelled of off-set printing, paper and tea-leaves. A sense of love oozed from the interior walls of the cottage. Photographs of people - appearing as if they were filled with joy and surrounded by others whom they loved - sprawled across almost every wall. Each wall that wasn't covered in these delighted faces was filled from floor to ceiling with an array of books from every imaginable encyclopedia to the literary classics of Charlotte Brontë and Tolstoy.

Wilber ventured out of his house rarely, only for the bare necessities and even then he tried to stretch the time between each outing as far apart as possible. In the outside environment he felt as though the world was spinning slightly too fast on its axis, as if everything around him and himself could become un-hinged in a second.

As he stepped onto the footpath his heartbeat would speed up, a small pearl of perspiration would glide from his hairline, down the smooth wrinkles of his forehead to his furrowed brow.

In a swarm of people Wilber felt alone. He couldn't control his senses and instincts. His elevated stress levels did not decline in any sense until his little cottage was in view. Even then every step between him and his front door seemed to large.

As Wilber shut the heavy wooden door behind him and turned to see the ever anticipated comfort of his home, his breathing slowed. He closed his eyes and absorbed the familiar scents of everything he loved. Everything he needed. His muscles loosened as a sense of safety reigned over him.

His paralysing state of affinity was disturbed only when Alfedo glided past his calves and slumped at his feet, welcoming his closest companion back into their sanctuary.

This is where Wilber belonged, with the familiarity of his well kept books, his noble friend and his tired and treasured possessions. Wilber doesn't need the distractions of loud strangers or the buzz of morning coffee. He only needs the things he loves, for there with Alfredo and his books, he is whole.

Image via Weheartit.

Note: this is no way to treat books. Paper has a longer memory than elephants.

Bottled wisdom.

Love your neighbour, but do not pull the fence down. - Chinese proverb

Image via turquoisekeytomyheart.

On the shore of the wide world.

When I have fears that I may cease to be

Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,

Before high-piled books, in charactery,

Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;

When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,

Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

And think that they may never live to trace

Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;

And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,

That I shall never look upon thee more,

Never have relish in the faery power

Of unyielding love; - then on the shore

Of the wide world I stand alone, and think

Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

-John Keats.

Image via tumbleanne.

Indeed.

"A boy with no hair took my heart. I was warned, but I was enchanted none-the-less. He taught me cool tricks and expanded my vocabulary. He said nice things and called me 'Mein Schatz'. I wrote him letters but he never used the postal service. Every time I saw him my stomach convulsed, I guess thats called butterflies. His embrace was like nothing else, like the rest of the world had never existed and that was all. I didn't like it when he corrected me or said that I shouldn't speak in different languages because I wasn't very good. Then came the day that he told me that he didn't even know what I ate for breakfast, or if I even ate breakfast. I told him that I eat muesli with yoghurt. He said that it was just an example, that his phrase wasn't literal.

Now, he is a world away, speaking foreign languages to other girls."

Photograph by Chiara Romagnoli for Test Mag.

Bring your sweet dictionary home to me.

I really want a giant dictionary. The ones that have the definition of every word imaginable in them. They are very heavy but very glorious.

(To anyone but myself the image and the post don't really go together, however I like the image and I was posting about something I like, so in a way they do go together.)

Image via Weheartit.

Paper love.

I am reading The Time Travellers Wife at the moment. It would be convenient to quit my schooling obligations and work through my list of books I want to read. If only.

Image via A Thousand Goodnights.

Please.

I'm a very indecisive person.

Image via Weheartit.

It's usually a sign of a Bad person.

Image via Polyvore.

Indeed it's true.

image via Booooooom.

Soak up the bliss.

Image via Booooooom.

Good advice.

Image via Polyvore.

The way I roll.

I love remembering little facts and retelling them to people I love.

Photo via Polyvore.

Maud.

Half the night I waste in sighs,

Half in dreams I sorrow after

The delight of early skies;

In a wakeful doze I sorrow

for the hand, the lips, the eyes,

For the meeting of the morrow

The delight of happy laughter,

The delight of low replies.

Maud. Part II, IV 5.

Lord Alfred Tennyson.

Image via Weheartit.

If only I could handstand.

Image via booooooom.

Lobster hands.

Booooooom Image.

Sorry.

image via Weheartit