Lucía’s Reviews > Circe > Status Update

There was a sort of innocence to him, I thought. I do not mean this as the poets mean it: a virtue to be broken by the story’s end, or else upheld a greatest cost. Nor do I mean that he was foolish or guileless. I mean that he was made only of himself, without the dregs that clog the rest of us.

It was a trick of his, to set a sentence out like a plate on a table and see what you would put on it.

I had been a desperate thing, ready to fawn on anyone who smiled at me.

I had no right to claim him, I knew it. But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth, Such a constellation was he to me.

Monsters are boon to gods. Imagine all the prayers.