Grand Central Station, NYC, 1941. The light does not stream in like this anymore because the buildings around the station are too tall.
Just the weight of it all is coming down on me—my young life is passing by right in front of me because all my time spent is making sure my future life is going to be what I’ve always wanted. Will it be though? Spending all these years stressing and being cooped up in my house just to do what?…
Dead Poets Society (1989)
(Source: larmoyante)