Ghosts

by Dolly Alderton

Mortifying oddity + time = riveting eccentricity.

didn’t wear a bra, simply to show off that I don’t have to wear a bra, which is a paltry consolation for having such small breasts.

Resetting the factory settings of a friendship is such a difficult thing to do.

found her so entertaining, I never wanted to signal at a platform where her train of thought could stop.

You can communicate and synchronize with each other in a way men never will be able to. You have tides within your own body. You’re nurturing and magical and supernatural and sci-fi.

marvelled at how a marriage ironically seemed to provide men of my generation with even more of an excuse to not grow up.

Being a heterosexual woman who loved men meant being a translator for their emotions, a palliative nurse for their pride and a hostage negotiator for their egos.

The contents of supermarket baskets are surely evidence that none of us are coping with adulthood all that well.

What was it about mothers that lowered a woman’s irritation threshold by a metre just from speaking?

was seven days old. If only he could know how lucky he was, to exist on a blanket of untouched snow, with not one footprint yet to be found.