such a profound, devastating loss. david lynch was truly one of the best, a true visionary, a beautiful artist and advocate for the arts. no one really saw the world like him. may he rest in eternal peace 🩶
ви ніколи не позбудетеся того відчуття, коли бачите в своїх батьках темряву, котру ще не розумієте. це раптове усвідомлення, що у вашому ідеальному уявленні про них починають зʼявлятися діри, і ви не знаєте, чи обурюватися на них, чи жаліти їх, чи все вищесказане
we dream of running—far, fast, now. it’s the mantra we whisper to lull ourselves to sleep at night, lying in beds surrounded by stuffed animals, pastel hues, and lace that ties us to a childhood we never truly lived. we make reckless choices again and again, over and over, because anywhere else has to be better. shelves overflow with fairy tales, polaroids of landscapes we long to escape into, and scrapbooks filled with fragile hopes for a different place. when childhood slips through your fingers, adulthood doesn’t just arrive—it leaves you stranded, a child still, more exposed than ever, trapped in a world that doesn’t love you, doesn’t care if you break. you don’t know how to survive it, yet there’s no way out. so you keep dreaming. always dreaming.
