As for saying which are trees, and which are men and women, or whether there are such things, that one won't be in a condition to do for fifty years or so. There will be nothing but spaces of light and dark, intersected by thick stalks, and rather higher up perhaps, rose-shaped blots of an indistinct colour-dim pinks and blues-which will, as time goes on, become more definite, become-I don't know what. . .
Woolf Short Stories
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Virginia Woolf
