"CONN PJ44396"
do you ever watch a film n then afterwards get in this weird mindset where you think you’re in a film
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Yo creo que la vida está dividida en lo horrible y lo miserable. En esas dos categorías. Y lo horrible son los enfermos incurables, los ciegos, los lisiados… No se como pueden soportar la vida, me parece asombroso. Y los miserables somos todos los demás. Así que al pasar por la vida deberíamos dar gracias por ser miserables; por tener la suerte de ser miserables.
Annie Hall, Woody Allen.
(via etomniavanitas)
(via etomniavanitas)
i don’t think anyone fully understands how iconic of a film the princess diaries truly is. everything in that film is iconic. the apartment/firehouse. the scooters as a method of transportation. “get off the grass” in 4 languages. “please don’t crush my soy nuts.” the mustang. the weird neighbor who writes poetry. the m&ms on the keyboard and the pizza. “it’s a wango?” lily’s otter backpack. the whole paolo makeover sequence. every foot pop. stop me i could go on forever the princess diaries is so iconic it’s on the same level of iconography as star wars (1977)
A mí me gustan las personas que dicen lo que piensan. Pero, por encima de todo, me gustan las personas que hacen lo que dicen
Mafalda (Quino). (via emiliazc)
I wish you a lifetime of moments too beautiful to capture on film.
Taylor Swift (the smartest person in the world)
do you ever listen to a song and feel the urge to make a short film just to use it as a soundtrack
Sometimes I imagine I’m a heap of sand - if you remove me, grain by grain, at what point am I no longer a heap? How much would I have to change as a person, before I’d no longer be me at all?
I guess we’re made of many selves. Within my every thought, every word, every act, are the ghosts of everyone I’ve ever met. And the ghosts of everyone they’ve ever met. The ghosts of my ancestors. The ghosts of every song, book, film, play, painting. They all vibrate within me. They are me. Which means I’m a little better now, because you’re a part of me, too.
In a way, we’re reincarnated in every individual moment. So we’re not just one person, but a linear sequence of innumerable incrementally different people, each burying the last and becoming born anew. Sort of the way the cells in our bodies regenerate every seven years. And the things we think define us are almost irrelevant, given a cosmic context. I mean, if extraterrestrials found these letters in a distant future, how would they imagine us? Elderly? Young? Rich? Poor? Male? Female? They wouldn’t have a clue. But they’d know I adore you. Granted, intelligence-wise, we might be termites next to them. But love-wise? They wouldn’t stand a chance.
Benedict Smith, Letter #6 (via benedictsmith)
Un día voy a escribir todo lo que siento. Y vas a leerlo y a preguntarte si se trata de ti. Y probablemente sí. Y posiblemente ya no.
(via nopuedohacerquemeames)
aquariusmoonlight