If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like having the moment all over again. — Daphne du Maurier
pinpricks: Mrs. Ramsay raised her head and like a person in a light sleep seemed to say that if he wanted her to wake she would, she really would, but otherwise, might she go on sleeping, just a little longer, just a little longer? She was climbing up those branches, this way and that, laying hands on one flower and then another. To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
It’s my birthday ! xxx
It's my birthday on the 16th of august
and I cannot feel anything but trepidation.