fossa // daughter .
Ten thousand?! We could almost buy our own ship for that!
"What a fine day! Can’t choose whether to drink tea or to hang myself."
by Anton Chekhov (via larmoyante)
“After you left,” he said in a low voice, grateful for the fact that Ron’s face was hidden, “she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn’t want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone…”