even the insane recover when they are held
/caption/

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Remembrance

(i swear i thought the last one would be the last one and i thought i didn't have things to say to you but my mind has a voice and i promised not to shut it up so here you go)

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ghost lover

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tomato-chilly

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hot barbie pink

[it's alright, ma (i'm only bleeding)]

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"...and this, is the sky."

he pointed to a flat uranian nothing, although his face was clearly printed with "This uranian flat thing is everything to us. We crane our brainbox propellers every time we can, just to glance at it."

It didn't mean much to me, this sky thing. Maybe it's how the cells in their eyes are made; to fall feeling for it, to crane up on their tiptoes just to check if it's stayed. Even the medium sized ones, the big ones, their tiny ones, generations after generations still make sure to look at it, as if it will grow five insect legs and leave after lunchtime.

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