About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she muttered, dreamily half asleep, how we perished, each alone.
— Virginia Woolf
To the Lighthouse
© Spoligo | 2024 All rights reserved
About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she muttered, dreamily half asleep, how we perished, each alone.
— Virginia Woolf
To the Lighthouse
© Spoligo | 2024 All rights reserved