I don’t need you to know my name

I don’t need you to know my credentials, my successes

I don’t need you to know where I’m going, or where I’ve been

I don’t need you to know the hours of energy that went into it all

but I need you to feel what’s behind it

if there’s any lasting impression I leave,

let it be my love

Do I Move You? | Nina Simone

(Source: unadulteratedconcept, via butterfly-rising)

We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves. I wish for all this to be marked on my body when I am dead. I belive in such cartography - to be marked by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned or monogamous in our taste or experience. All I desired was to walk upon such an earth that had no maps. — Michael Ondaatje (via aphoticvenusrising)

(via jatigi)

He called her a melon, a pineapple, an olive tree, an emerald, and a fox in the snow all in the space of three seconds; he did not know whether he had heard her, tasted her, seen her, or all three together. — virginia woolf, orlando (via mamma-wolf)