In pictures that sit upon my windowsills and tables.
Faces of people I’ve never meet, and probably never will.
It is the strangest thing, to realize that my home is only half mine, and that the other half seeps into every aspect of my daily life. It is an equal living space between two different people, whom have lived completely different lives.
last year i was eating in a fancy, large restaurant when i began to hear a rumble and the distant sound of people chanting ‘potassium, potassium’ and suddenly hundreds of people dressed as bananas flood this restaurant chanting potassium over and over and we were trapped there for a very long time because the bananas would not leave and they were everywhere
i wasn’t joking
I’m dying OMG