spilltheink [2010-11-26 15:04:25 +0000 UTC]
The description you put reminds me a lot of a Sylvia Plath poem called Edge. Here is the part of it this reminds me of:
"Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
One at each little
Pitcher of milk, now empty.
She has folded
Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden
Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower."
This is such a beautiful shot! I love the editing.
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jahsi In reply to spilltheink [2010-11-26 16:50:36 +0000 UTC]
i really loved her novel as well, it was so strong, and basically that was the time i started to read the autobiographies/stories of suicidal and depressed people
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