Oh Paris, you know
I held on too much .
paris
ART Group

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Send private messageArtemisia Zaria Valeska55471Living is like tearing through a museum. Not until later do you really start absorbing what you saw, thinking about it, looking it up in a book, and remembering - because you can’t take it in all at once. Visit poster's website 
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Send private messageArabella Minerva Falcone9303TONIGHT THE MEMORY OF YOU IS BURNING INTO MY SOUL GETTING MY TEARS DRUNK  
Send private messageArcher Dior Leclair175  
Send private messageAthena Celeste Gavriil306Paris  
Send private messagebernard LARs Bousquet37  
Send private messageBethan Noomi Sosa6  
Send private messageBronislaw Jerzy Gwozdec407Paris… is a world meant for the walker alone, for only the pace of strolling can take in all the rich (if muted) detail.  
Send private messageCarlotta Inéz Cortês208They are so damn 'intellectual' and rotten that I can't stand them anymore....I would rather sit on the floor in the market of Toluca and sell tortillas, than have anything to do with those 'artistic' bitches of Paris.  
Send private messageChantelle Bijou Dalle16  
Send private messageCordelia Aisha Berkowicz50and the ocean seducing me with its melodies- come on my dear, plunge into the dark and let the water set you free  
Send private messageEmil Lemar Markovic5979THE ONLY PEOPLE UP AT 3 AM ARE IN LOVE, LONELY, DRUNK, OR ALL THREE.  
Send private messageFrida Leticia Favreau13210  
Send private messageGert Kennedy Lisander423  
Send private messageIsobel Anne Shelby411what can i do when the night comes and i break into stars  
Send private messageJonathan Aiden Dawson5815  
Send private messageKaoru Chou Saitou8She was not used to being cruel, but he had taught her how.  
Send private messageMartin Charles Blackwood242We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.  
Send private messageNadira Safiyyah al Azhar85Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion. Life is like a train of moods like a string of beads, and, as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue.  
Send private messageRyan Raiden1277LA, California  
Send private messageVeronique Morgan Defram78  
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