i smoke two joints before i smoke two joints, and then i smoke two more.
look at the iris development, its stunning
(Source: habsolutely-high)
Paris, Je T’aime (2006)
He looked at his wife, who crossed the street. She was wearing a red trench coat which she promised to throw away and which she kept pulling out of her closet, year after year. She approached all things the same way. And it was that trait that attracted him, when he first met her. The same clothes worn over and over again. Piles of lipstick, which she never used. That song… Life’s Vortex, which she hummed while making food, was a part of the life that had become alien to him and which he intended to abandon between the main dish and dessert. He realized the weird and logical inappropriateness of the place he has chosen to abandon her. It was here that he first realized that he had stopped loving her.
When she smiled, he was on the verge of shouting: “I’m leaving you. Stop smiling.” But instead he offered her some wine. It pissed him off that she never ordered any hors d’oeuvres or dessert. But she, almost always, ate his whole portion. The worst thing was that he always ended up ordering what she loved. “I’m not sure I actually like that cake,” he thought solemnly.
When she started to cry like she never cried before, he thought that she knows he was leaving her for Marie-Christine, a passionate flight attendant, who he loved for a year and a half. “She knows,” he thought. “She’s known it for some time. I should have expected it.” Still crying, she took out some documents from her handbag and handed them to him. The documents were written in a lifeless medical language and described leukemia in its terminal stage.
Having read the documents, the meeting’s purpose flew out of his mind. And a weird metallic voice said to him: “You have to be up to the task.” And he was. He ordered three pieces of cake as takeout and sent an SMS to his mistress. Forget about me. Sergio. He surrounded her with the care she always desired. He hung paintings. He moved things from one place to another. He accompanied her to morning showings of her favorite movies. He went with her to sales even though he hated shopping. He read Murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart aloud. And everything, even the most mundane things, had a different meaning since he learned he was doing them for her for the last time.
Behaving like a man in love, he once again became a man in love. And when she died in his arms, he fell into an emotional coma from which he never awoke. And until this day, years later, his heart still sinks when he sees a woman in a red trench coat.
(Source: mis0neism)
(Source: danielodowd)
(Source: i-nstaqueen)
