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and between the creation of this body and its end lay the mystery the girl would spend her life solving.
Work isn’t meaningful just because you spend your life doing it.’
‘We close our eyes and there they are, right where we left them, in their own waiting room, waiting for us.’
Each cube was rounded by room temperature, dissolving in its own remains, and belatedly she understood that this was how a loved one disappeared.
He emptied his lungs but his sigh wasn’t finished; it went on emptying him.
There is something miraculous in the way the years wash away your evidence, first you, then your friends and family, then the descendants who remember your face, until you aren’t even a memory, you’re only carbon, no greater than your atoms, and time will divide them as well.’
Life: a constellation of vital phenomena – organisation, irritability, movement, growth, reproduction, adaptation.
the joyousness of a Paradise that is the summer to the winter of the world.
For months they’d run their fingers around the hem of their affection without once acknowledging the fabric.
You are mine. I recognise you. We twist our souls around each other’s miseries. It is that which makes us family.
‘We wear clothes, and speak, and create civilisations, and believe we are more than wolves. But inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are.
She wanted to hold foreign syllables like mints on her tongue until they dissolved into fluency.
In the world beyond were two thousand and eighteen souls who had slept in that room, and remembered that room, and would harbour it in their thoughts for no fewer than ninety-nine years, when a little girl that Havaa had once watched sleep, the last living of the two thousand, closed her eyes for the last time.
