Normality wasn't normal. It couldn't be. If normality were normal, everybody could leave it alone. They could sit back and let normality manifest itself.

There comes a moment, when you get lost in the woods, when the woods begin to feel like home.

Whenever we got a glimpse, their faces looked indecently revealed, as though we were used to seeing women in veils.

Everyone struggles against despair, but it always wins in the end. It has to. It's the thing that lets us say goodbye.

Now all the mute objects of my life seem to tell my story, to stretch back in time, if I look closely enough.

Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling.

Emotions, in my experience, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in "sadness", "joy", or "regret". Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that is oversimplifies feeling. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions.