it's all very well to say home, it's all very well to say love, and live, those big big words, but she doesn't see what things are anymore. just what things are not. the holes in her heart are of a specific shape and they can't get filled quite right. round pegs, square holes.
she shares her cigarettes with edmund, shares walks with him, shares her skin, her flask (it was peter's -- he didn't take it with him to the raf), her lips and occasionally her solitude. they rarely talk about peter anymore and barely even mention narnia, because by now they both know better. there is a time and place for that, a season for all things: someday he will go back to accusing susan of forgetting, but it's obvious to him that right now she's doing nothing but remembering.
ALL YOUR CAPITAL LETTERS ARE BELONG TO MEEEEEE 'cos i've been experiencing a dearth of capitals here myself.
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it's all very well to say home, it's all very well to say love, and live, those big big words, but she doesn't see what things are anymore. just what things are not. the holes in her heart are of a specific shape and they can't get filled quite right. round pegs, square holes.
she shares her cigarettes with edmund, shares walks with him, shares her skin, her flask (it was peter's -- he didn't take it with him to the raf), her lips and occasionally her solitude. they rarely talk about peter anymore and barely even mention narnia, because by now they both know better. there is a time and place for that, a season for all things: someday he will go back to accusing susan of forgetting, but it's obvious to him that right now she's doing nothing but remembering.
ALL YOUR CAPITAL LETTERS ARE BELONG TO MEEEEEE 'cos i've been experiencing a dearth of capitals here myself.