Bokelskere.no

I’ve never believed life imitates art, that saying’s widespread because it’s so easy, reality always outstrips the imagination, that’s why some stories can’t be written, they’re too pallid to evoke what actually was.

Why were those places of sand her mother had talked about when she was a little girl left buried in the sand of her memory?

[...] she’d found it normal, just as she’d found it normal growing up in a beautiful building on the Grands Boulevards, as if that elegant Parisian apartment were the most natural thing in the world – it wasn’t – the most natural thing in the world didn’t exist, things exist as you want if you think them and if you want them, then you can guide them, otherwise they go along on their own.