And, before me, the lake is drowned in the sunset. The distant mountains are silver blue, and the sky, first vivid rose, thins and spreads into a pale amber. Far away on my left the land is heavily heliotrope, curving and sharply outlined, and fold upon fold of grey sky. And far far ahead a little golden moon daintily, graciously dances in the blue floor of the sky. A white moth flutters past me. I hear always the whispering of the water.
Katherine Mansfield, 1907, from her Notebooks (via katherine-mansfield)
A 23-year old recent college grad, ENFP (so they tell me), nostalgia-prone yet eternally optimistic. An aspiring writer who spends her weekdays answering phones and preparing court filings--everyone has to have a day job, right?
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