Separating them were two layers of brick, a few inches of plaster, and nine years of silence.

...finally her hands, so light, holding his head still and catching all his thoughts and imprisoning them there, in the space that no longer existed between them.

You can fall ill with just a memory.

She emptied herself of Fabio and of herself, of all the useless efforts she had made to get where she was and find nothing there. With detached curiosity she observed the rebirth of her weaknesses, her obsessions. This time she would let them decide, since she hadn't been able to do anything anyway. Against certain parts of yourself you remain powerless, she said to herself, as she regressed pleasurably to the time when she was a girl.

His scars were hidden and safe in her hand.

Why did you choose to stay here?" (...) "I don't know," he said. "It's as if there's more oxygen here.

Separating them were two layers of brick, a few inches of plaster, and nine years of silence.