” I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig-tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but chosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one… by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.” Sylvia Plath
(photo via weheartit.com)
No comments:
Post a Comment