"5am - the prospect of sleep lingers with the stars
Out of reach - out of touch - with wings of a tarse"

"I go down to the shore in the morning
and depending on the hour the waves
are rolling in or moving out,
and I say, oh, I am miserable,
what shall—
what should I do? And the sea says
in its lovely voice:
Excuse me, I have work to do."

Mary Oliver, from the book A Thousand Mornings (via fishingboatproceeds)

A night of bad decisions that I don’t plan on regretting.

whatacatchdonie:

siempre solitario