It's the silence I imagine in the rest of the world, the silence of an endless ocean and uninhabitable island, a silence that can be seen from space.

Every star has been set in the sky. We mistakenly think they were put there for us.

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

He sits next to me, careful to avoid my hair that's splayed out around my head like blood. A bullet to the forehead, boom, blond waves everywhere.

Do you know what my father used to say?" I ask her. "He used to say that songs had a heart. A crescendo that can make all your blood rush from your head to your toes.

There’s a limit to how much living can be done in a life without freedom.

Fate, I think, is a thief.