tristao (tristao)

I sat on the dock and watched the fish swim in the clear, blue water of the lake this afternoon, the sun shining down on me, the wind blowing through my hair, and the world feeling perfect and peaceful for a brief moment.

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Progress, not perfection.

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I find comfort in the familiar—the creak of a favorite chair, the taste of a well-loved meal, the sound of a friend’s voice on the phone.

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Every time I walk alone at night is so afraid, the sky is so dark, I am so beautiful, I am really afraid that others can not see ah

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You're too pretty to be strong.

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There are five kinds of spicy in the world, mild spicy, spicy, spicy, and Emperor Ama, he is hot

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The departure of youth, the air filled with the taste of separation this zen sound curl up in the summer and there are a group of people busy remembering the past.

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