I see an ocean that’s spilled out of a wineglass, its body clear and sparkling and folding over itself. I see a ribbon of sand.

I want to make a world more magical than my own. I don't care if it makes sense, I don't care if it's ridiculed or if, rather than a neat round planet that goes around forever, it ends with a cliff that falls off into nothing. I want to have my eyes wide open, and I want to see this room and at the same time, not this room.

His three wives are huddled together on the bare mattress, one of them dying; when we're together, we form an alliance he can't touch. He's scared to even try.

The sullen boy sitting before me is not my husband, and the girl he is fretting over isn't me, will never be me.

A strange thing, words. Once they're said, it's hard to imagine they're untrue.

And if I have to die trying, I will get out of here.

But I know all the things you're too sweet to know.