Gnomon

by Nick Harkaway

Mystery allows for dreams and uncertainty for romance, forgetfulness opens the door for forgiveness and even redemption.

While the stuff brews, she makes toast and honey, as always bewildered and a little creeped out by the origin of the sweet comb. On the other hand, once you start down that road you won’t be drinking milk, either, and then you might wonder about cheese, or wine, and if you’re in that headspace then to be honest all food – meat or vegetable – takes on the alien tinge of life ingested, the spectre of uninvited growth inside the body.

A moving tram is a bubble in space, profoundly separated from everything else. Time passes inside at a fractionally different rate, and no physical interaction is possible between passengers and people on the outside.

the amiable clutter which she supposes is what art looks like if you don’t put it in a case.

Fernweh. It’s German – the longing to be somewhere one has never been, the grief one feels at the absence of persons yet unmet.

He smiles, and I wonder if my mouth is noticeably open or if I look as fucked in the earholes as I presently feel.

That night, I buy drinks for an entire strip club. An Israeli dancer, the only one I’ve ever met and a former tank commander, sits naked on my lap and whispers in my ear. She’s rather charming. I have never been so lonely in my life.

Life is not guaranteed to be comprehensible, only comprehensive.