Whenever they didn’t speak, Susie’s tattoo itched with a mixture of anticipation and irritation–an expected reaction to such an unnatural separation. This time, however, the snail gathered its home upon its shoulders and made the long, slow trek to take residence in her heart, to keep company its ache from the days of residual regret.
Awww.
Awww.
for you, of course.
for you, of course.
There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The farther off from England the nearer is to France–
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
–Lewis Carroll
♥
LOVE. <3