Leigh Bardugo

She lived in happy solitude, and grew old, and never worried when her beauty faded, for in her reflection she always saw a free woman.

She lived in happy solitude, and grew old, and never worried when her beauty faded, for in her reflection she always saw a free woman.

– Leigh Bardugo –

Folktales from Ravka: Little Knife

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George Saunders

And there was nothing left for me to do, but go. Though the things of the world were strong with me still. Such as, for example: a gaggle of children trudging through a side-blown December flurry; a friendly match-share beneath some collision-tilted streetlight; a frozen clock, bird-visited within its high tower; cold water from a tin jug; toweling off one’s clinging shirt post–June rain.Pearls, rags, buttons, rug-tuft, beer-froth. Someone’s kind wishes for you; someone remembering to write; someone noticing that you are not at all at ease.

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