“…that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.”
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
675 notes
·
View notes
Text
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
0 notes
Photo
299 notes
·
View notes
Text
16K notes
·
View notes
Text
13 notes
·
View notes
Photo
10.01-21 (setting tests.)
Misc.
- Vivera Rossi
886 notes
·
View notes
Text
255 notes
·
View notes
Text
1K notes
·
View notes
Photo
43K notes
·
View notes
Text
41 notes
·
View notes
Photo
7K notes
·
View notes