Nobody will ever hurt her. She’ll just smile her faint vague wonderful smile and walk away.

When I was about ten my favourite article in the huge and mouldering Encyclopedia Britannica we owned (the ninth edition) was the one on Lycanthropy. (Yes, I had a favourite 1890s Britannica article when I was ten. I am now aware this is not entirely usual.)

The war had begun and nobody saw it. The storm was lowering and nobody knew it.

In my dream, it was the tongue of what is, and anything spoken in it becomes real, because nothing said in that language can be a lie. It is the most basic building brick of everything.

I watch with envious eyes and mind, the single-souled who dare not feel The wind that blows beyond the moon, who do not hear the fairy reel

She was also an adult, and when adults fight children, adults always win.

I remember making that vow, the one not to forget. Not to remember what happened, but to remember who I was and how I felt.