Strange storming up from the dense under-earth
Along the iron, to the living steel
In rose-hot tips
Almond Blossom, DH Lawrence
It didn’t seem to be summer any more. I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together, and the big white hotel towel I had dragged down with me lay under my head, numb as a snowdrift.
The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath
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