The more she could imagine this island, the less she liked the real world. The more she could imagine the people, the less she liked any real people. It got until she didn’t belong anywhere. It got so nobody was good enough, refined enough, real enough. Nothing was as real as her imagined world.

razorshapes:

The desert caravan (by Kip Photographie)

82 notes
Posted on Tuesday, 24 January
Reblogged from: onieric
Posted by: razorshapes

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    The desert caravan (by Kip Photographie)

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