Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait...
The pain has receded but what’s left is the shell of pain, an empty space where there should be pain but instead there is the expectation of pain.
I make books because I love them as objects; because I want to put the pictures and the words together, because I want to tell a story.
I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room
That is what madness is, isn't it? All the wheels fly off the bus and things don't make sense any more. Or rather, they do, but it's not a kind of sense anyone else can understand.
I raise my head and see a red illuminated EXIT sign and as my eyes adjust I see tigers, cavemen with long spears, cavewomen wearing strategically modest skins, wolfish dogs. My heart is racing and for...
I want to tell you again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight...
When the woman you live with is an artist, every day is a surprise. Clare has turned the second bedroom into a wonder cabinet, full of small sculptures and drawings pinned up on every inch of wall spa...
Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.
It's hard being left behind. I wait for Henry, not knowing where he is, wondering if he's okay. It's hard to be the one who stays behind.
He made the boxes because he was lonely. He didn't have anyone to love, and he made the boxes so he could love them, and so people would know that he existed, and because birds are free and the boxes...
Now you're making me self-conscious. I feel like every time I blow my nose it's a historic event.Well, it is.She rolls her eyes. What's the opposite of determinism? Chaos.Oh. I don't think I like that...
…she smiles in an exhausted but warm sort of way, as though she is a brilliant sun in some other galaxy
Listen, sometimes when you finally find out, you realize that you were much better off not knowing.
I think about cutting my hair. How nice it would be to wash it, run a quick comb through it, and presto! all set, ready to rock and roll. I sigh. Henry loves my hair almost as though it were a creatur...
Oh. A bigger studio. It dawns on me, stupid me, that Henry could win the lottery at any time at all; that he has never bothered to do so because it's not normal; that he has decided to set aside his f...
Even her name seemed empty, as though it had detached itself from her and was floating untethered in his mind. How am I supposed to live without you? It was not a matter of the body; his body would ca...
I’m suicidal just thinking about it.
The pain has left but I know that it has not gone far, that it is sulking somewhere in a corner or under the bed and it will jump out when I least expect it.
I do get tired of humans
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