Ah, love. That’s what the world has lost. There’s no more love, only the illusion of it.

Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.

I'm suddenly finding it hard to know the difference between nightmares and consciousness.

And everywhere girls, tumbling from trees like orange blossoms and hitting the earth with sickening thuds. They crack open.

No matter how lonely it makes me, and no matter how wide and horrific the loneliness, at least I remember who I am.

Home?' I say. It's a word that can mean anywhere and nowhere.

I think humans have always been desperate. I think it has always been about doing something awful if it might help, when the only other option is death. Maybe that's what being a parent is supposed to feel like.