Source: damageinthemaking
Source: comaberenices
She is borne quickly along the current. She appears to be flying, a fantastic figure, arms outstretched, hair streaming, the tail of the fur coat billowing behind. She floats, heavily, through shafts of brown regular light. She does not travel far. Her feet (the shoes are gone) strike the bottom occasionally, and when they do they summon up a sluggish cloud of muck, filled with the black silhouettes of leaf skeletons, that stands all but stationary in the water after she has passed along out of sight. Strikes of green-black weed catch in her hair and the fur of her coat, and for a while her eyes are blindfolded by a thick watch of weed, which finally loosens itself and floats, twisting and untwisting and twisting again.
- Michael Cunningham, The Hours
Source: hatinglolita
Source: mgsweeney
