september 2013, Paris
© Kara Supeley
"I couldn’t stop looking at her, didn’t want to blink. She was wicked looking—shiny black hair that hung down over the curve of slender hips, drooping lashes, partly raised, no Raggedy Ann doll. The sight of her made me high. All that and her voice. It was a voice that drove out bad spirits. It was like she’d come down from another planet."
Bob Dylan on Joan Baez
while the cold creeps in
I think of you
and all the things you might want to be
and tomorrow I’ll change
slither up like snake upon a spiral staircase
"I stared back at her, but her eyes told me nothing. Strangely transparent, they seemed like windows to a world beyond, but however long I peered into their depths, there was nothing I could see. Our faces were no more than ten inches apart, but she was light-years away from me."
Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via easymomentsandobsession)