i saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next had suddenly snapped up, and i could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad infinitely desolate avenue
“
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the bell jar - sylvia plath(via scribble-scribbles) |
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