“About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she muttered, dreamily half asleep, how we perished, each alone.” ― Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
-
gracieava reblogged this from myviewfromawindow
-
myviewfromawindow posted this
Short URL for this post: http://tmblr.co/Z2z8TwR5WSGT