1. Also, in the middle, cadaverous, awful, lay the grey puddle in the courtyard, when, holding an envelope in my hand, I carried a message. I came to the puddle. I could not cross it. Identity failed me. We are nothing, I said, and fell. I was blown like a feather, I was wafted down tunnels.
    Virginia Woolf - pg40, The Waves
    September 14, 2012
    1. iwhohavenoface reblogged this from cherryraethompson
    2. cherryraethompson posted this