More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“I guess she was just trying to be nice,” I say. “A lot of people just try,” Sophie says, lacerating a sprout. “Trying doesn’t absolve you.”
“Some men are so foul you wouldn’t even bother to save their blood,” she says.
We walk in silence for a while, the ground chomping beneath our feet like it’s something alive, like it’s something we bring to life with our contact, with our presence.
It’s astonishing how normal it is to love a creature you’re not supposed to love.
And what’s more damning: that I live in the seclusion of the trees or that I live alone? Or that I’m happy about it all? That I’ve made these choices, that I have these gifts, and I embrace them? I’m not ashamed of who I am. Of what I am. What is it about a woman in full control of herself that is so utterly frightening?
