Klikk på en bok for å legge inn et sitat.
I'll rewrite history for you. How's that?
My heart lurched: yearning ran through me like a cramp
But the old wound has split open, the invisible blood pours forth. Soon I'll be emptied
I wanted things to be highly coloured, simple in outline, without ambiguity, which is what most children want when it comes to the stories of their parents. They want a postcard.
Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. Solid flesh can never live up to the bright shadow cast by its absence
Woman Looking in Mirror, said to be an allegory of vanity. Though it is unlikely to be vanity, but the reverse: a search for flaws. What is it about me? can so easily be construed as What is wrong with me?