Talks about literature, the world, and everything in between.
The gentle breeze passes my extended arms. I take in the rising sun, and bask in it, the once cold air around me turning warm. The waves from the surf crash ceaselessly, creating a constant muted sound for the villagers on the coast. The village is run down but strong. It’s ancient stone walls, testing…
by
“That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.”
– Emily Dickinson