Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon. Swear not by the sun, the inconstant sun. Swear not by anything, for nothing is truly constant. Welcome…to Night Vale.
When you’re young, thunderstorms seem scary. Like the sky is angry at you. But now that I’m older, something about its roar soothes me; it’s comforting to know that even nature needs to scream sometimes.
Nostalgia is a
that insists things
than they seemed.