{bowling with my boos}
"deep in her soul, however, she was waiting for something to happen. like a sailor in distress, she would gaze out over the solitude of her life with desperate eyes, seeking some white sail in the mists of the far-off horizon. she did not know what this chance event would be, what wind would drive it to her, what shore it would carry her to, whether it was a longboat or a three-decked vessel, loaded with anguish or filled with happiness up to the portholes. but each morning, when she awoke, she hoped it would arrive that day.…"
- gustave flaubert, from not that kind of girl
