Honour looked so much like a child herself, confined to bed, a white nightgown, like one of those maudlin Victorian dolls. Her cheeks were red, like someone had painted them, but I knew it was from rubbing, wiping away her melancholy.
Ruth Ahmed, When Ali Met Honour
childhood, dolls, melancholy, melancholy-suffering-happiness, sadness, sickness, victorian-dolls, victorian-era