Alex loved books. He was the one who first introduced me to poetry. That's another reason I can't read anymore.

There is only what you want and what happens. There is only grabbing on and holding tight in the darkness.

Mama, Mama, help me get home I'm out in the woods, I am out on my own. I found me a werewolf, a nasty old mutt It showed me its teeth and went straight for my gut. Mama, Mama, help me get home I'm out in the woods, I am out on my own. I was stopped by a vampire, a rotting old wreck It showed me its teeth and went straight for my neck. Mama, Mama, put me to bed I won't make it home, I'm already half-dead. I met an Invalid, and fell for his art He showed me his smile, and went straight for my heart. -From "A Child's Walk Home," Nursery Rhymes and Folk Tales

How is it possible, I think, to change so much and not be able to change anything at all?

I just want to be normal, like everybody else." "Are you sure that being like everybody else will make you happy?

For a split second, he had looked almost like my Alex again.

I don't understand how everything changes, how the layers of your life get buried. Impossible. At some point, at some time, we must all explode.