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siriusstark:

awkwardsituationist:

98 year old dobri dobrev, a man who lost his hearing in the second world war, walks 10 kilometers from his village in his homemade clothes and leather shoes to the city of sofia, where he spends the day begging for money.

though a well known fixture around several of the city’s chruches, known for his prostrations of thanks to all donors, it was only recently discovered that he has donated every penny he has collected — over 40,000 euros — towards the restoration of decaying bulgarian monasteries and churches and the utility bills of orphanages, living instead off his monthly state pension of 80 euros.

there’s still good in this world

mymountainofdreams:

Story of my life

mymountainofdreams:

Story of my life

awakenedphilosopher:

I’m just a lost soul
swimming in a fish bowl
filled with tears and
childish fears
would you join me?

would you take that plunge
into the darkness expunged
from a soul since torn to shreds
would you adore me?

would you remind 
my lungs to breathe
restore the strength
back to my knees
and when I stand once more
would you love me?

or would you spurn me in this hell
these dark, watered depths in which I dwell
when my torment breaks and swells
could you love me?

If I could walk on sandy beaches with the sand between my toes,
would you hold my hand in yours and smile everywhere we go?

awakenedphilosopher:

I’m just a lost soul
swimming in a fish bowl
filled with tears and
childish fears
would you join me?

would you take that plunge
into the darkness expunged
from a soul since torn to shreds
would you adore me?

would you remind 
my lungs to breathe
restore the strength
back to my knees
and when I stand once more
would you love me?

or would you spurn me in this hell
these dark, watered depths in which I dwell
when my torment breaks and swells
could you love me?

If I could walk on sandy beaches with the sand between my toes,
would you hold my hand in yours and smile everywhere we go?

The Broke Man

awakenedphilosopher:

I’ve been lost in the pages
writing out our love story
from shattered memories.

A puzzle board of emotions
meticulously pieced, one
by one together until, at last,
it resembled something
like a heart. 

And with that picture in mind
I wrote…

I filled hour upon hour
page upon page
day upon day
with just that tale

it was all I had left
for your love had set sail
and left me with nothing
but this lonely, broken man’s tale…

The Love Story

awakenedphilosopher:

I’m all fucked up
I’m damaged goods
a writer without a pen

a blank page dreaming
of the book it could be
perhaps a love story
with a happy end 

but my ink’s run out
just like the tears you cried
the night you went away

leaving me here
with just a sad, lonely tale
to tell for the rest of my days

but someday, maybe, I hope and dream
that my tale will yet move on
to brighter pastures and happy times;

the love story I wanted all along