I tore up and ate my own passport in an airport hotel once. I'm bloated with language I can’t afford to forget.

Two people who were once very close can without blame or grand betrayal become strangers. Perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.

I think in Somali, I cuss in Somali, when I'm afraid I reach for somali and this language is very rich, very filling. It's an unflinching language; the crudest most terrible things sound perfectly normal in Somali.

Apathy is the same as war, it all kills you, she says. Slow like cancer in the breast or fast like a machete in the neck.

I am a lover without a lover. I am lovely and lonely and I belong deeply to myself.

You can't make homes out of human beings.

And you tried to change, didn't you? Closed your mouth more. Tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake... You can't make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that. And if he wants to leave, then let him leave. You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love.