{ s e l f }

And you wonder where she learnt,
That beauty lies upon your skin,
So that she thinks it doesn’t cover everything she holds within,
It breaks your heart to know her mirror,
Is how she estimates her worth,
And not the lives she’s made much better,
By simply being on this earth.

Ernest Hemingway



So, we see all the that man has created, and it is art for sure, and it is much appreciated and treasured by the people. But how much art are you, since you have mind, body and soul. You are a creator yourself, you are a source of hope, a source of life, a source of love. But at the same time you are the masterpiece, the creation, the muse. Art is merely the projection of you.

— Rachel | Hela



A chaotic soul she was. She felt everything, and all of it at once.

There was something quite tragic about her; but not the kind of tragic that is hopeless and lost; the kind of tragic that just takes time.

—Rachel | Hela



So, here we are, filling in each other’s blank spaces, tracing each other’s lines and pouring color onto one another wholeheartedly. And while staring at each other’s crooked lines and incompleteness, we find ourselves in awe of the unfinished masterpiece that is standing right before our eyes, only waiting to be colored in. What more could one wish for?

— Rachel | Hela


Om = vis

Am visat că eram stele. Apoi galaxie. Apoi univers. Dupa vis, m-am trezit din nou om. Mi-am dat seama însă că visul nu e decât o și mai mare realitate captivă unei realități incomod mai mici, si că implicit, daca visele sunt realitate, eu, om = stele, galaxie, univers. Ce este visul? realitatea fiecăruia. Și dacă și omul si visul sunt aceeași realitate, a fiecăruia, am constatat imediat ceva. Nu o să vă vină să credeți; om = vis.

— Rachela


And I hope the next time this world makes you feel like you aren’t good enough, pretty enough, or strong enough, you remember that your very existence goes to show that at one point, you were brave enough to keep going in spite of all the reasons you had to quit. And I truly believe that nothing in this world is more beautiful and strong than that.

How lovely all your shattered pieces look now, when you see them as tolkens of strenght instead of signs of brokenness.



‘Cause in the end, only the dreamers make it. The true ‘scientists’ of our time; the ones who dare to believe that behind all these dry layers of earth there is something worth living for. They are the only survivors.