When she faced the noise, she found the mayor’s wife in a brand-new bathrobe and slippers. On the breast pocket of the robe sat an embroidered swastika. Propaganda even reached the bathroom.

Make sure you live,' she said. 'As decent as you can. I know you'll make mistakes, but sometimes you're meant to, okay?

People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spot blues. Murky darkness. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.

It's not a big thing, but I guess it's true--big things are often just small things that are noticed.

If you can't imagine it, think clumsy silence. Think bits and pieces of floating despair. And drowning in a train.

Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.

The paper landed on the table, but the news was stapled to his chest. A tattoo.