My childhood landscape was not land but the end of the land -- the cold, salt running hills of the Atlantic. I sometimes think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own... When I was learning to creep, my mother sat me down on the beach to see what I thought of it. I crawled straight for the coming wave and was just through the wall of green when she caught my heels.
Sylvia Plath
- Interesting words - Sylvia Plath
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