August 16, 1920 – March 9, 1994
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny, they are small, and the fountain is in France where you wrote me that last letter and I answered and never heard from you again.

→ Jun 2012

The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flood lands to your door 
have been silenced forever more.
the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row
it seems farther than ever before

I need you so much closer

2 notes · Death Cab For Cutie, Transatlanticism,
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