Cait Terp

“Or were we like people who have died before their time and are given a second chance by some minor deity, but with so many provisos that the new life feels like a deferred death?”
― André Aciman, Enigma Variations

“I wanted to scream. When I'm with you, I feel I can take what others call my life and turns its face away from the wall. My entire life faces the wall except when I'm with you. I stare at my life and want to undo every mistake, every deceit, turn a new leaf, turn the table, turn the clock. I want to put a real face on my life, not the drab front I've been wearing since forever. So why can't I speak to you now?”
― André Aciman, Enigma Variations

“Your problem is not that you misread signs; all you see are signs.”
― André Aciman, Enigma Variations

“But on e-mail we were lovers, as though a fever coursed through our veins. As soon as I saw her name on my screen, I'd be unable to think of anything or anyone else. There was no use pretending I could wait. I would drop whatever I was doing, shut my door if I was at the office, muffle the rest of life around me, and think of her, just her, almost speaking her name, which sometimes I caught myself doing when one or two words would gush out of my mouth before I could stop them, words I would repeat verbatim to her on e-mail, hoping they'd fly to her screen and stir her like powerful newfangled meds that have an instant effect on one tiny chamber of the heart without affecting the other three. Ours were gasps, not e-mails. Words that thrilled me even more when I transcribed them from my body to my keyboard and that tore out of me like darts dipped in blood, semen, and wine. I wanted my words to erupt on her, the way hers did on me, like buried bombs detonated remotely when we were least guarded.”
― André Aciman, Enigma Variations