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A buddy of mine made this. It is beautiful. Watch if you’d like to indulge in some PSH.
And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.
Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (via observando)
She is not mine. I don’t think she could ever be anyone’s. She doesn’t want to be owned. That’s what I love most about her.
(letters my grandpa wrote about my grandmother)
