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“You’ll see for yourself. Something will disappear from your life.” “Is it scary?” I asked her, suddenly anxious. “No, don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt, and you won’t even be particularly sad. One morning you’ll simply wake up and it will be over, before you’ve even realized.
People—and I’m no exception—seem capable of forgetting almost anything,
“The island is run by men who are determined to see things disappear. From their point of view, anything that fails to vanish when they say it should is inconceivable. So they force it to disappear with their own hands.”
things are disappearing more quickly than they are being created,
I think about this re: the human brain's capacity this generation
the island will soon be nothing but absences and holes,
Once I realized there was no means to get them out, words seemed to proliferate wildly inside me, filling my chest and suffocating me.
When you lost your voice, you lost the ability to make sense of yourself.
End…conclusion…limit—how many times had I tried to imagine where I was headed, using words like these? But I’d never managed to get very far.
