Jul 5
Long fingers of light reached through the apple branches as through a net; the orchard was riddled and shot with gold; light was the reality, the trees were merely interferences that reflected and refracted light. Lying on her side under the white mulberry tree, her face half hidden in the grass, her eyes closed, her hands lying limply where they happened to fall. She had lived a day of her new life of perfect love, and it had left her like this. “I was dreaming this,” she whispered, hiding her face against him “don’t take my dream away.”
Willa Cather
