I decided on that evening that I was through with sitting still. I stood up and started moving with a childlike fascination for those doors that don’t have locks, and the stairways that were blocked, so I dug through the obstruction and put my fist around the railway. And each step was far apart and far away from steps before it, and the air was getting thinner until I couldn’t breathe at all. And if I happened to look behind me, there were miles and miles of stairs, enough so I couldn’t see the doorway, but I knew that it was there. And on the last step, I was dizzy because there were stairs in all directions. But I found another door, and through the door, there was the attic. Without old clothes, without a ceiling: everything had opened wide into the jaws of something bigger, and suddenly I saw that I was
upstairs and outside and freezing on the roof. Finally, it had found me—the answer, the feeling, and the truth: that I’m small.
get me happy
"Hey ram, doesn’t this cafeteria have a “no fags allowed” rule?”
giving up the gun by vampire weekend
NYC // 2014
(Source: Flickr / kerstinschoellhorn)