There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
It needs an audience.
f r a g m e n t s 1/6 : A Study in Pink
u know my url not my html
“It was bloody, messy, 31 flavors of bottom dwelling nasties. Hell, most days felt like 360 degree combat. But there was something about being there, felt pure.”
*suddenly becomes aware of posture*