I didn’t mind the quiet stretches. It was like we were trying out the idea of being side by side.

It was like we were exchanging codes, on how to be a father and a daughter, like we'd read about it in a manual, translated from another language, and were doing our best with what we could understand.

As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.

We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands. How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.

I like birthday cake. It's so symbolic. It's a tempting symbol to load with something more complicated than just 'Happy birthday!' because it's this emblem of childhood and a happy day.

When language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It's nourishing; it's rejuvenating.

The wine glasses are empty except for that one undrinkable red spot at the bottom.