I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling. — Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart (via solunars)
(Source: runawaytrain, via ocallaghaniscalling)
Upstairs in the The Last Bookstore, Los Angeles.
Photography by intellichick.