Sun

D.H. Lawrence

Sun

«And she would rub a little olive oil into her skin, and wander a moment in the dark underworld of the lemons, balancing a lemonflower in her navel, laughing to herself. There was just a chance some peasant might see her. But if he did, he would be more afraid of her than she of him. She knew of the white core of fear in the clothed bodies of men.»