A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.
Oblivion seemed the only reasonable option.
was it possible that i was, in the modern term, in denial?
What can it be about low temperatures that sharpens the edges of objects?
I'm sorry to say that far worse things have happened and the literature of the Holocaust is a witness to the capacity of the novel as a form.
And though you think the world is at your feet, it can rise up and tread on you.