 | | 07/10/2011 04:22
Sur le blog Amy Nelson
nothing staid, nothing settled, in this universe,
“Nothing could be slow enough, nothing lasts too long. No pleasure could equal, she thought, straightening the chairs, pushing in one book on the shelf, this having done with the triumphs of youth, lost herself in the process of living, to find it with a shock of delight, as the sun rose, as the day sank. Many a time had she gone, at Barton when they were all talking, to look at the sky; seen it between peoples shoulders at dinner; seen it in London when she could not sleep. She walked to the window.” - Virginia Woolf*With my feet on the leaf crunch, and two leg elbows kissed by the breeze, I am aware. When the pine's turn into soft wood, and the dandelions die, we...
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