I distinctly remember connecting to this line in The Great Gatsby, but it's really just an excuse for the basic af fall photos. Don't worry, no pumpkin spice lattes.
Nothing makes you realize the weird quirks of your own culture quite like a country where you all speak the same language, yet somehow don't.
Gucci Gucci, Louis Louis, Fendi Fendi Prada, basic bitches wear that shit so I don't even bother (also I can't afford it whoops)
Bright walls, wheatpastes, book installations--oh my!
How can we rank bookstores? By aesthetics? Coziness? Selection? Notoriety? The cuteness and cuddliness of the live-in cats?
“Ser uno mismo es, siempre, llegar a ser ese otro que somos y que llevamos escondido en nuestro interior, más que nada como promesa o posibilidad de ser.”
When summer vacation feels like a dream you read about in a poem.