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Песента на вятъра. Земята под краката. Душите на хълмовете. Счупването на оковите.
I love sarcastic people with high vocabularies

— (via kafkae)

There is nothing prettier than a city at 5 AM with its empty streets and cold wind

(via dolljpg)

When I used to work at the bank’s call center, my shift started at 4AM. Driving into work was my most favorite time of the day. It was quiet, and empty. 

(via cumfordaddy)


get used to being alone


you’ll be alone your whole life.

— 生活 (life)

It hurt, but I still stayed.

— Unknown  (via terrible)

You are still the only face I have in my mind’s eye.

— Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West (via violentwavesofemotion)



If you could go anywhere in the world right now would it be to a “where” or to a “who”?

I was not prepared for this question


I swear people just see things the way they want to see them sometimes. It’s like their heads are filled with so much negativity that they try to find it in everything, even when people are being genuine.

there was mist upon the mountains
glistening with pure gold
of iron and copper ore
of jewels seldom told
here the dwarves rule the stone
of caverns deep and dark
where stories are but whispered
and the wind is just a bark
and within these heavy walls of woe
there lived a sort of fever
granted by the Arkenstone
and fell upon its receiver
the elves had warned, they said to heed
that the power was too much
but the foolish dwarves so high above,
remained in its clutch
they unleashed a beast so savage
of violence, tooth and claw
for their towns were set a flame
the elves but only saw
though the Elvenking’s army vast
and his champions brave and strong
he could not bear to watch them die,
to right an action wrong
he left them to be engulfed by fire
to burn to simple ash
turned his head away from calamity
and didn’t bat a lash
for long years the Durins waited
for fate or foe could not be told
they waited until they could wait no more
for some were getting old
but a Leader came like swift wind
he burst from bark and oak
to reap what had been taken
and find a dragon to provoke
he enlisted the help of a Burglar
nothing but a simple man
he asked him for his talents great
and join his merry clan
dwarf and hobbit and wizard too
they traveled far and wide
thirteen of them in the entire company
and ponies they did ride
they faced the horror of goblin kings
and wargs with faces grim
they fought their way out caves so deep
and nearly lost their limbs
but their luck had driven out
when they saw the Pale old one
his face scarred from years of battling
with near no battle won
once more the elves did warn
that action could not be taken
there had never been a journey so long
it should have been forsaken
the company rode on
amid bears and spiders great
they fought their way out of giant webs,
coming closer to their fate
they met the ones of starlight
and how the Leader saw them shine
he battled with the Elvenking
his deal he did recline
for the elf had warned him dear
the consequences of his actions
and how the jewels within the walls
brought forth terrible attractions
but the Leader took no serious heed
he thought it rather odd
and with his sharpened tongue
he brought down the King’s facade
but the Burglar brought another plan
he thought it quite a riot
rolled the dwarves in emptied barrels
being very quiet
the scheme had worked!
the plan had gone on well
the river flowed from Mirkwood
and into a water swell
through Lake Town’s shallows and it’s homes
the dwarves made a horrid mess
they were caught in action, caught fair and square
so the Leader did confess
his words were true, his claim was right
there was nothing to dispute!
the hunger in his eyes did gleam
when he thought of all the loot
the Bard was skeptical, he did not like what he saw
the gleam in his eyes was bad
he prepared his bow and his quiver
while the dwarves were off in armor-clad
the Burglar broke through Durin’s walls
his steps were light and flitting
but his nerves were high, oh how they were
and his teeth he had been gritting
for there in gold so bright it flickered
there lay a mighty beast
he had scales so red, and breath so foul
the Burglar’s heartbeat did increase
but dragons like good games they do
and the two played for long enough
until the dragon could stand no more
and he gave a mighty puff
the company did run
dwarves and hobbits alike
through the walls of old Durin’s stone
avoiding the dragon’s strike
but the dragon burst from shadow and quake
he unleashed his mighty wings
he traveled to old Lake Town
thinking death is what he brings
but he was brought down with one simple strike
good Bard the Bowman struck
this time they had made it, no town was destroyed
perhaps it was just their luck
but the Leader had grown restless
for now the riches were his
his eyes grew dark, his body quivered
he forgot what sanity is!
but there among the hills they came
like a plague but darker still
orcs so many, so full and great
that the Burglar felt quite ill
he went among the other rulers
the Bard and King of Elves contract
he told them of his sickened Leader
and said it was time to act
the war raged on for what felt like eras
the ground was stained with blood
but that was not the only thing so wet
for tears began to flood
the line of Durin broke so fast
it fell in quite a heap
the Leader fell without a doubt
but his nephews too went to sleep
the battle won but lost as well
the Burglar felt so weary
the sky did not let out a ray,
the day was meant to be dreary
the Elvenking spoke in kindness
said that he was a friend
he bid him fond farewells and gifts
and said it was not the end
for deep without woods and mountain sides
there came a swift new sound
the sound of blazing hammers and swords
a new darkness had been found
the burglar returned with wizard in tow
back to his shy old hole
he had enough of traveling
but had something he had stole
a ring of gold, emblazoned with words
what a curious round thing
and when he put it on his finger
he almost heard it sing
but that is a tale for another time
perhaps you will want to hear it
well then take a breath, relax and smile
have some tea and sit
so ends the tale of burglars and kings
of misty mountains tall
of when thirteen dwarves had sought a throne
but in the end did fall

— 'The Hobbit: In Poetry' , Krystina Kazikova. (via these-chains-are-daisies)


I want to talk to you but my face