It is important to know the stories and histories of things, even if all we know is that we don’t know.
Got a light? See? Careful. I’m everything you ever dreamed.
Always be reading something, he said. Even when we’re not physically reading. How else will we read the world? Think of it as a constant.
This isn’t fiction, the man says. This is the Post Office.
But, of course, memory and responsibility are strangers. They’re foreign to each other. Memory always goes its own way quite regardless.
And after that, I watched our house collapse in on itself and I spent some time lying in the rubble. Then I vanished completely. I wasn’t here at all. Then you phoned.
And they all lived happily ever after, until they died.
She looked at the girl in the chair and she saw what youth was. It was oblivious, with things in its ears.
Is there never any escaping the junkshop of the self?
She had not expected, out in the world, to find herself quite so much the wrong sort of person.
It is perhaps rather fine, after all, being dead. Highly underrated in the modern western world.
He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen in my life. But he really looked like a girl. She was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen in my life.
Maybe it’s easier to talk to someone who won’t ever actually hear what you say.