zoom

…The moon slips into the mountains like a lost penny and the fields are black and punguent and I want you near so that I could touch you in the autumn stillness even a little bit like the last echo of summer. The horizon lies over the road to Lausanne and the succulent fields like a guillotine and the moon bleeds over the water and you are not so far away that I can’t smell your hair in the drying breeze. Darling—I love these velvet nights. I’ve never been able to decide whether the night was a bitter enemie or a ‘grand patron’—or whether I love you most in the eternal classic half-light where it blends with day or in the full religious fan-fare of mid-night or perhaps in the lux of the moon. Anyway, I love you most and you ‘phoned me just because because you ‘phoned me tonight—I walked on those telephone wires for two hours after holding your love like a parasol to balance me.

Zelda to Scott Fitzgerald, Fall 1930

(via drunkonstyle)