Of course he wasn’t dead. He could never be dead until she herself had finished feeling and thinking. The kiss of his memory made pictures of love and light against the wall. Here was peace. She pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net. Pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over her shoulder. So much of life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come and see.Their Eyes Were Watching God — Zora Neale Hurston
I like taking long walks down short piers and staring directly into the sun for sport.
My name is irrelevant, and this is my blog.
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