‘But the mingled, mingling threads of life are woven by warp and woof: calms crossed by storms, a storm for every calm. There is no steady, unretracing progress in this life; we do not advance through fixed graduations, and at the last one pause…’
Friday, March 03, 2017
Emily Berry, Dear Boy
'And I was grown up, with your face on,
heating spice after spice to smoke out the smell of books, to burn
the taste buds off this bitten tongue, avoid ever speaking of you.’
