“Returning home after her divorce, she moves through airport crowds, her grandmother’s house, and the tight choreography of conversation with her mother—love expressed through food, folded clothes, silence, and superstition.”

It's been cubbyholed for years at a time, but I always knew I would finish it. At times the story was in a form that can hardly be called a draft, it was more in pieces, lying around like a jigsaw puzzle.

“That me is far from what you know. That me is dead. There’s no comfort in this. And there’s the fear that this me you see, raging and electric, will be dead someday, too.”

I’m interested in the way in which memory—the way that we think about the past—is a re-creation of the past, how the past keeps happening.

“Eno, who is credited with coining the term “ambient music,” suggested that it should, paradoxically, be inconspicuous and stimulating at the same time.”

“In my mind I played the image of him and the visual artist, their long limbs entangled, his hand on her throat, his eyes on her contorted face, his other hand kneading her heavy breasts.”