Nocturnalley

I don’t suppose I really know you very well - but I know you smell like the delicious damp grass that grows near old walls and that your hands are beautiful opening out of your sleeves and that the back of your head is a mossy sheltered cave when there is trouble in the wind and that my cheek just fits the depression in your shoulder.

—Zelda Fitzgerald, in a letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald (via bisous-a-tous)

(Source: hospitalbombers, via nouvelle-nouveau)