This deserved a reblog.
“So I went on writing. The story was writing itself and I was having a hard time keeping up with it. […]I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all of Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.” Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast pg.17-18 (Restored Edition by Scribner)
just-write-to-me.tumblr.com
By: Gabriela Yareliz
In life, there are certain moments where things are intensely–yours. You can be walking down the street, and a child gives you a smile–it’s yours; you may walk into a beautiful place, and you are the only one there–it’s yours; you may be sitting, not expecting a single thing and someone beside you shares your silence and ordinariness–that moment is yours, and that person is your partner in…
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GABRIELA YARELIZ 