Now the sun was slanting in at one side, so that the shadows were where they ought to be. Again he fell into that strange mood of speculation that was so foreign to him. If faces were different when lit from above or below—what was a face? What was anything?
William Golding, Lord of the Flies (via likeafieldmouse)
I went into the desert to forget about you. But the sand was the color of your hair. The desert sky was the color of your eyes. There was nowhere I could go that wouldn’t be you.
Jeffrey Eugenides (via rampias)