bingewatching will never come close to bingereading. there is nothing like blocking out the entire Earth for ten hours to read a book in one sitting no food no water no shower no bra and emerging at the end with no idea what time it is or where you are, a dried-up prune that's sensitive to light and loud noises because you've been in your room in the dark reading by the glow of a single LED. it's like coming back after a three-month vacation in another dimension and now you have to go downstairs and make dinner. absolutely transcendental
i feel like im in the sims where it takes 5 hours to make pasta and then u have to immediately go to bed
i hate it when people are writing a long ass thing and start a parenthetical aside and forget to close parentheses it makes me feel like i cant escape from the sentence
"it's all in your head" correct! unfortunately I am also in there
the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.
The best way to contact me is to meet me in my dreams at 3am
View of the Big Cascade in Petergof and the Great Palace of Petergof (1837) by Ivan Aivazovsky
Window wings, fragile panes Shield me from the dark Warm me with your spark