But come. No explaining or mending. Be beside me somewhere.

...he enclosed pieces of string that he used to measure out his body--his head, thigh, forearm, finger, neck, everything. He wanted me to sleep with them under my pillow. He said that when he came back, we would remeasure his body against the string as proof that he hadn't changed.

I wouldn't want a boy to think I was pretty unless he was the kind of boy who thought I was pretty.

Which, then, brings us closer to what we want to communicate: saying what we intend, or trying to say the opposite?

Mom told me, “It probably gets pretty lonely to be Grandma, don’t you think?” I told her, “It probably gets pretty lonely to be anyone

There's nothing wrong with not understanding yourself.

This brings me back to the image of Kafka standing before a fish in the Berlin aquarium, a fish on which his gaze fell in a newly found peace after he decided not to eat animals. Kafka recognized that fish as a member of his invisible family- not as his equal, of course, but as another being that was his concern.