It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.
I had been alone more than I could have been had I gone by myself.
My flesh winced, in cowardice, from such a death.
I drink sherry and wine by myself because I like it and I get the sensuous feeling of indulgence...luxury, bliss, erotic-tinged.
She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.
A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin.