The Lamplighters

by Emma Stonex

It felt like the more I read, the more free I was in my mind, and if you’re free in your mind, then it doesn’t matter what else is going on.

and, goodness, it’s sad what you forget. You think you’ll memorize every tiny thing because every tiny bit about it consumes you—what they eat, the noises they make, the balled-up fists and flapping arms, the wispy hair at the back of the neck and the soft, rounded shoulders at bath time . . . But you don’t. You can’t. Every week your child gets replaced by a new one, a bigger, more advanced one, and I don’t think it’s possible to retain all the personalities faithfully. It’s like knowing ten different people in the space of two years.