Mood: going through your writing at the end of a long day, the moon bright outside, cup of tea in hand, finding more comfort in words than in the cosiest blanket (the blanket helps, nevertheless)

I’ve had this ask in my inbox for more than a week, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be finding a non-overwhelmed reply anytime soon, so I’ll answer like this.

I want to say – 

– it’s words like these that can mean the world. It doesn’t matter how insignificant you think they are. They arrive at a creator’s physical and mental address, always do.

– it’s words like these that artists, writers, creators think about before bed, during the darkest and most own-work-hating hours, when no line or word or anything seems in place.

– I personally think that if a creative work makes you feel or think something, it’s amazing. If it manages to do both, it’s brilliant. And when the creator receives feedback on what their work did to someone else?

It feels as if, for that little precious moment, the world is alright and your work shakes the universe at least once – and a tiny bit wonderful, even.

peppapigvevo:

paxylite:

yukitalia:

now you can remember your embarrassing memories of caramelldansen just in time for the holidays

i’m absolutely speechless

Goodbye

If you burn this song onto a cassette, place it into a spirit-infested boombox summoned from the grave of Oscar Wilde, carry it to the middle of your birth town’s square on the first snowy Wednesday of the new year, and play it 173 times to a petri dish of water bears, the world is catapulted back to the year 2007.