What do you think?
Rate this book


272 pages, Paperback
First published August 22, 2013
Every morning she woke up afflicted with a skin disease. Her shoulders, her breasts, the insides of her arms, anything that came in contact with him—her skin was ruptured with an embroidery of encrusted lines that were spreading. (2).
In his presence she was reduced to silence and solitude. She could not speak: she had nothing to say. A palpable, dazzling force field radiated from him, a blast from a contained explosion. A wave coursed through her and she disintegrated. Her atoms were pulverized. She was in suspension and, already, that’s what she wanted: disintegration. (7)
By means of a phenomenon to do with time and space, with history and locations, with violence, a phenomenon that had nothing magical about it but which she could see was distorting the space between them, the sentences he uttered turned into other sentences in her moth. (72)
The beats were missing from her heart. The forest was coiling like a mirage, never thinning, never diminishing, hurtling all at once to the sea, yes, it was the sea and she was not there. (255)