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The Mothers
by
When we first heard, we thought it might be that type of secret, although, we have to admit, it had felt different. Tasted different too. All good secrets have a taste before you tell them, and if we’d taken a moment to swish this one
...more
“It’s like living near a bakery but never eating any bread. Every day you walk the streets, the smell of it in your nose, your stomach growling, but no matter how many corners you turn, you can never enter the actual store. The”
― Before the Fall
― Before the Fall
“He’s not coming, baby,” the nurse said. “Do you have someone else to call?” Nadia glanced up, startled by the nurse’s confidence that Luke would not show, but even more jolted by her use of the word baby. A cotton-soft baby that seemed to surprise the nurse herself, like it had tripped off her tongue. Just like how after the surgery, in her delirium, Nadia had looked into the nurse’s blurred face and said “Mommy?” with such sweetness, the nurse had almost answered yes.”
― The Mothers
― The Mothers
“...Want to know
why my roses grow dead on
a living vine? Prayer against civil war. Let
us hate with a single heart. Don't
drink the runoff. I always wanted a ruin
so I bought a run-'er-down. Love
contaminates”
―
why my roses grow dead on
a living vine? Prayer against civil war. Let
us hate with a single heart. Don't
drink the runoff. I always wanted a ruin
so I bought a run-'er-down. Love
contaminates”
―
“There is no history of mankind, there is only an indefinite number of histories of all kinds of aspects of human life. And one of these is the history of political power. This is elevated into the history of the world. But this, I hold, is an offence against every decent conception of mankind. It is hardly better than to treat the history of embezzlement or of robbery or of poisoning as the history of mankind. For the history of power politics is nothing but the history of international crime and mass murder.”
―
―
“It is the job of the human brain to assemble all the input of our world—sights, sounds, smells—into a coherent narrative. This is what memory is, a carefully calibrated story that we make up about our past. But what happens when those details crumble?”
― Before the Fall
― Before the Fall
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