My ideal body weight is you on top of me.
~ Simone de Beauvoir, Lettres à Nelson Algren 1950 (via quitecontinental)
Sometimes when she’s sleeping, I kiss her on her shoulders, the back of her neck, her cheek, anywhere and everywhere. I play with her hair and run my fingertips up and down her sides. I think the highest of hopes for a future together with her. I listen to her heartbeat and play with the fringes in her clothes. I cuddle up against her, holding her, and truly think to myself that she’s the only thing keeping me from floating away. So, hopefully, if there is some sort of higher power, they know that I loved her even when she wasn’t looking; I’ve heard that true character is built when no one’s watching. Maybe this way, I’ll be judged for the way I love, not the ‘who’ I love.
~ (via makelvenotwar)
When I was in the advanced-placement art classes in high school, learning how to oil paint in a room with six or seven other students who were all white, we were doing portraits. Mine happened to be black because my subjects were the people from my neighborhood. My teacher stopped me around the third assignment and asked me, “Why do you only paint black people? Why don’t you paint others?” I’m like, Why aren’t you asking anyone else in this room to do that? And what difference does it make? It’s still paint.