Nifty Shades of Grey ― Anabella

Like the haunting melody of a distant songbird the past returns to enchant. Every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, flirts with the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose absence we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.

―Marilynne Robinson

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