There are some things that are so unforgivable that they make other things easily forgivable.

Our histories cling to us. We are shaped by where we come from.

She rested her head against his and felt, for the first time, what she would often feel with him: a self-affection. He made her like herself. With him, she was at ease; her skin felt as though it was her right size.. It seemed so natural, to talk to him about odd things. She had never done that before. The trust, so sudden and yet so complete, and the intimacy, frightened her.. But now she could think only of all the things she yet wanted to tell him, wanted to do with him.

I am interested in challenging the mainstream ideas of what is beautiful and what is acceptable.

I was stained by failure.

How easy it was to lie to strangers, to create with strangers the versions of our lives we imagined.

I’m very feminist in the way I look at the world, and that worldview must somehow be part of my work.