The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.
— T. S. Eliot, from “Rhapsody on a Windy Night”
[prompted by odalisquia’s word suggestion: “nostalgia”]
(Source: proustitute, via journalofanobody)
