the hands of angels...
sideblog belonging to a baby witch.
currently: doing a summer fellowship, busy with work.

"As the days unfold and pass,
My love becomes a robe
Whose fastenings ever multiply
To hold and bind me." - 鉄輪

labelle-rose:

“And the ocean smells like lilacs in late August—how is that. The light there muted (silver) as remembered light.”

— Franz Wright, from “Walking to Martha’s Vineyard,” Walking to Martha’s Vineyard (Knopf, 2003)

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