Carol’s Reviews > The White Book > Status Update
Carol
is on page 113 of 161
She is sitting at the desk, like someone who has never known suffering.
Not like someone who has just been crying or is about to.
Like someone who has never shattered.
As though there has never been a time when the only comfort lay in the impossibility of forever.
— Mar 11, 2026 06:50PM
Not like someone who has just been crying or is about to.
Like someone who has never shattered.
As though there has never been a time when the only comfort lay in the impossibility of forever.
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Carol’s Previous Updates
Carol
is on page 115 of 161
Stale pain has not yet withered quite away, fresh pain has not yet burst into bloom. Days in which darkness and light are both imperfect swell with memories of the past. The only things that the mind cannot examine are memories of the future.
— Mar 11, 2026 06:57PM
Carol
is on page 65 of 161
There is none of us whom life regards with any partiality. Sleet falls as she walks these streets, holding this knowledge inside her. Sleet that leaves cheeks and eyebrows heavy with moisture. Everything passes. She bears this remembrance — the knowledge that everything she has clung to will fall away from her and vanish— through the streets where the sleet is falling, that is neither rain nor snow….
— Mar 09, 2026 08:40PM
Carol
is on page 45 of 161
If a strong wind got up and skimmed off the fog, the ruins of seventy years ago might be startled into revealing themselves, pushing out from behind the present reconstruction. The ghosts that were gathered there, very close to her, might stand up straight against the wall where they were slaughtered, their eyes blazing out. But there is no wind and nothing is revealed beyond the already apparent.
— Mar 09, 2026 08:28PM
Carol
is on page 27 of 161
At times my body feels like a prison, a solid, shifting island threading through the crowd. A sealed chamber carrying all the memories of the life I have lived …. The more stubborn the isolation, the more vivid these unlooked-for fragments, the more oppressive their weight. So that it seems the place I flee to is not so much a city on the other side of the world as further into my own interior.
— Mar 09, 2026 08:05PM
Carol
is on page 15 of 161
Each moment is a leap forward from the brink of an invisible cliff, where time’s keen edges are constantly renewed. We lift our foot from the solid ground of all our life lived thus far and take that perilous step out into the empty air. Not because we claim any particular courage, but because there is no other way.
— Mar 09, 2026 07:53PM
Carol
is on page 14 of 161
If I sift those words through myself, sentences will shiver out, like the strange, sad shriek the bow draws from a metal string.
— Mar 09, 2026 07:48PM
