Membranes filtered Momo’s every impression of the world. At thirty, she felt there was at least one layer of membrane between her and the world. Not the kind of membrane she applied to her clients receiving facials at work, obviously. The invisible kind. The kind that made her feel sort of like a tiny water flea—a Daphnia encased in a cell, swimming alone out to sea. The ocean surrounded her body but never touched her.
