There's no way for them to take away my sadness, but they can make sure I am not empty of all the other feelings.

iv. who was it who invented size zero? who was it who promised that if you got to a certain point you would no longer be?

We stay this way until twilight colours the window and the hour calls me home

We switch to another language-- not our invented language or the language we've learned from our lives. As we walk further up the mountain, we speak the language of silence. This language gives us time to think and move. We can be here and elsewhere at the same time.

I kiss her and she finds the light switch and turns it off, and we're just lit in Pepsi-can colors and it's like we've finally found this other kind of conversation, this conversation in gestures and pulls and pushes and breaths and grasps and teases and glimmers and rubs and expectation.

I want you to be honest with me. Even if it hurts. Although I would prefer for it not to hurt.

me: you know what sucks about love? o.w.g.: what? me: that it's so tied to the truth.