‘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…’
Sunday, May 04, 2014
Romy Ash, Floundering
'Under the awning is a little table and a chair with the memory of a bum still in it.' 79
