“There is a wind, and the flowers on the window-sill, and their shadows on the curtains, are waving. Like swans dipping their beaks in water. Like the incalculable raising its head, uselessly and wildly, for one moment, before it sinks down, beaten, into the darkness. Like skulls on long, thin necks. Plunging wildly when the wind blows to the end of the curtain, which is their nothingness. Distorting themselves as they plunge. The musty smell, the bugs, the loneliness, this room, which is part of the street outside - this is all I want from life.”
Quote by Jean Rhys
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Good Morning, Midnight
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