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We live so many lives within our lives – smaller lives with people who come and go, friends who disappear, children who grow up – and I never know which of these lives is meant to serve as the frame.
my ‘self’ recedes and gives space to a nameless joy, a unified whole that preserves all the details, inseparable and distinct, next to one another.
Birgitte had been able to adapt, and she adapted to such a degree that what defined her personality was an absence of personality.
Her efforts to blend in and avoid friction obliterated the part of her where an individual character should have formed with all its desires and roughness, a spine with its own bristles. Instead there was only anxiety, vibrating and surface-level, exacting and constant, the only aspect of Birgitte that was visible to others.
