a particularly awkward arrangement of atoms

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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
exhaled-spirals
The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify — it was like the light of truth itself […], as if it said: ‘This is reality, whether you like it or not. All those frivolities of summer, the light and shadow, the living mask of green that trembled over everything, they were lies, and this is what was underneath. This is the truth.’ It was as if we were being punished for loving the loveliness of summer.
Willa Cather, My Antonia (via exhaled-spirals)