our week // vol 4

The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.


— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “Afternoon in February”

our week // vol 4
our week // vol 4
our week // vol 4
our week // vol 4
our week // vol 4
our week // vol 4
our week // vol 4
our week // vol 4
our week // vol 4

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