23. Male. In a relationship. Games. Movies. Tattoos.
A boy who will never grow up.

 

We call ourselves Runners. We exist on the edge between the gloss and the reality: the mirror’s edge. We keep out of trouble, out of sight, and the cops don’t bother us. Runners see the city in a different way. We see the flow. Rooftops become pathways and conduits, possibilities and routes of escape. The flow is what keeps us running, keeps us alive.

(Source: monteriggioni)