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The library is a gathering pool of narratives and of the people who come to find them. It
Men can never keep their violence to themselves.
I feel twin things: the deep satisfaction that comes from a job well done, and the sense of loss that always follows on its heels.
Even so, I can’t fully relax until I’m home and sliding into steaming hot water. My god, it’s good to scald yourself nearly to death.
Bath girlies for life <3
It’s a beautiful thing, to be seen and understood. To be cared for.
If I wasn’t a writer, who or what could I possibly be?
They were too coveted, too; people raised holy hell when they died. Parents howling in the waiting rooms, beating their heads and fists on the walls. There was none of that with adults—unless they were well-liked, beautiful, and young. But thankfully those were rare.
It fills my sails to know she’s finally watching.
Who needs religion when you can have a nightly bath?
True honestly
How strong is the thread attaching him to life?
she shifts like the sky from one moment to the next.
The truth is, of course, that I’m sick. I’ve been sickened.
we were two souls adrift in a dark and empty universe, breathing together, communing in a way most people never do, out in the ruthless world.
I want to look her in her dreamy eyes and tell her: We’re the same. Gripped by a lifelong passion, grinding our souls against the world’s unjust demands.
