crisp linen summer

"Sometimes we caught sight of tattered knee socks rounding a corner, or came upon them doubled over, shoving books into a cubbyhole, flicking the hair out of their eyes. But it was always the same: their white faces drifting in slow motion past us, while we pretended we hadn't been looking for them at all, that we didn't know they existed." The Virgin Suicides, Jeffrey Eugenides


Images, Kim Noorda by Sarah Maingot, via mixologies