Paralysis
Nov 3 · 2 min read
Snow… lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
The Dead, Dubliners, James Joyce
Yes, paralysis of the heart


