‘I have heard all of the stories about girls like me, and I am unafraid to make more of them.’
‘Marni on Mack. Mack in Marni. A little Mack and Marni. My head rushes. I want to watch, hear the sounds.’
‘Then winter ended and spring came, and I thought, even if I don’t believe there’s a poem in anything any more, maybe I’ll write a story.’
‘Sounds like a mast year . . . it’s a thing that happens to trees. But sometimes it happens to people too.’
‘You’ve got your catflap, I’ve got my guy.’
‘It was during this period that I got to know K, one of the local mailmen.’
‘She’s a good-for-nothing chummer. If she survives a week on the slime line without cutting off her thumb or slicing her wrist, she’s hired.’
‘No other inanimate object retains emotion as strongly as keys do. Fingerprints are engraved on them as if the laws of wear and tear do not apply.’
‘Frequency of sex since marriage: zero.’ Sayaka Murata on a sexless marriage and the ‘Clean Breeder’ technique for pleasureless reproduction.
‘On the F train to Manhattan I emailed a friend in the UK. I said I couldn’t write my essay about Japan.’
A wry, fanciful fable about how love can transform both nature and fate.
‘Everyone should just sit very still until they reach the calmer waters of later-young-adulthood, that promised land of lowered expectations.’
‘Beatrice was my first love. The dark contours of her delicate skeleton, the glowing flesh made translucent by my X-ray gaze, drove me crazy.’
‘Evil, she told herself. That was the name of the flower.’
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