Home Actor Josh Brolin HD Instagram Photos and Wallpapers February 2024 Josh Brolin Instagram - It's the bandits, the exposed, the misfits and brave I've always been attracted to: the reality for its shadow and the shadow for its freedom. I never much understood anything less than wild abandon.

Josh Brolin Instagram – It’s the bandits, the exposed, the misfits and brave I’ve always been attracted to: the reality for its shadow and the shadow for its freedom. I never much understood anything less than wild abandon.

Josh Brolin Instagram - It's the bandits, the exposed, the misfits and brave I've always been attracted to: the reality for its shadow and the shadow for its freedom. I never much understood anything less than wild abandon.

Josh Brolin Instagram – It’s the bandits, the exposed, the misfits and brave I’ve always been attracted to: the reality for its shadow and the shadow for its freedom. I never much understood anything less than wild abandon. | Posted on 21/Jul/2023 18:01:44

Josh Brolin Instagram – You got a big heart, fucker. ❤️ @prideofgypsies @on_the_roam @harleydavidson
Josh Brolin Instagram – I am in a foreign land today. I wake up and see through another window I’m not current with. Outside that window are trees that don’t know me nor do they hold any feeling of who I am. The sun tries to hide but in its purposeful side-flare I am even more blinded by then when before it saw me in pieces. I ran from where I was thinking that here would embrace me with opened arms. The hope is that there is somewhere in the world that isn’t transient, yet what finds me now is yet another made bed without a hint of life inside it. It’s just me here, like a post-apocalyptic mourning. A sadness lands, and with that discipline tests. Sounds of the recent past resound and memories are made visible using pieces of what feels was just a few days ago: a morano glass sunset, twilight wind-rains that create blue lightening that hit all of us, and that psychic red heat I’ve watched shrivel friends into characters you’ve read about in the pulp novels from the turn of the century. I have to stay here. I’ll hear the birds soon and my thoughts might knock on some personal door inside my head with flowers and a strange glint in their eye supposing a long hug or something of a soft rub mid-back might be in order. Very few people give a shit about anything but what they want. There is a threshold that most people want to be enticed to cross and with great praise they will. Without the attention, they will sit, and they will shrivel, and they will wallow in an ill-reality that nobody has ever cared. And when that sucker that comes along cares, they will do everything in their power to sabotage that effort and make the person feel bad that they noticed them and wanted to reach out in the first place. There is a window I awaken to, and through that window I see a forest of flowers who all are yelling something in unison that I cannot, for the life of me, hear. I’ll rest my heavy head on the pane, and wait patiently for it to break. đź’Ž

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