[For all the world around them is clung to by the air of the unfamiliar, there's the faintest prickle of home in this conversation. Not home just as it is, perhaps, but certainly home as Ophelia had always best liked it.
What's more familiar than prodding at the edges of a mind more worldly than her own?]
Every stitch in the edge of a handkerchief is but small, and I cannot imagine sewing to be anything but work.
no subject
What's more familiar than prodding at the edges of a mind more worldly than her own?]
Every stitch in the edge of a handkerchief is but small, and I cannot imagine sewing to be anything but work.