Tropical Fishy

Bajo el mar
y el mar le hablaba siempre al oído y al corazón

y el mar le hablaba siempre al oído y al corazón

(Fuente: rainbowtwo)

Jesse: I feel like this is, uh, some dream world we’re in, y’know.

Celine: Yeah, it’s so weird. It’s like our time together is just ours. It’s our own creation. It must be like I’m in your dream, and you in mine, or something.

Jesse: And what’s so cool is that this whole evening, all our time together, shouldn’t officially be happening.

Celine: Yeah, I know. Maybe that’s why this feels so otherworldly.

You know, I have this awful paranoid thought that feminism was mostly invented by men so that they could like, fool around a little more. You know, women, free your minds, free your bodies, sleep with me. We’re all happy and free as long as I can fuck as much as I want.

You know what’s the worst thing about somebody breaking up with you? It’s when you remember how little you thought about the people you broke up with and you realize that is how little they’re thinking of you. You know, you’d like to think you’re both in all this pain but they’re just like “Hey, I’m glad you’re gone”.

I’m really happy only when I’m on my own. Even being alone, it’s better than sitting next to a lover and feeling lonely. It’s not so easy for me to be all romantic. You start off that way and after you’ve been screwed over a few times, you forget about all your delusional ideas and you just take what comes into your life. That’s not even true I haven’t been screwed over, I’ve just had too many blah relationships. They weren’t mean, they cared for me, but there were no real connection or excitement. At least not from my side.

—Celine, Before Sunset (2004)

(Fuente: isti-istiningsih)

coisasdetere:

Small, intimate and charming French restaurant ~ As beautiful outside as it is inside. Paris - Montmartre.

coisasdetere:

Small, intimate and charming French restaurant ~ As beautiful outside as it is inside. Paris - Montmartre.

No quería volver a hablar. No quería que sus palabras gritaran dolor.

—Laura Esquivel. (via elarboldelashistorias)