Annabella

“She passed weeks in bed, hours and hours, just playing the jewel game on her phone. The game was easy and beautiful and she felt she was very good at it. Every time she played, she would think "After this game, you will put down your phone and do something else." But she never put down her phone, and she never did something else. She continued to play the jewel game. She thought, "It's okay, don't worry. You won't play the jewel game forever." But, what if she did play the jewel game forever? She thought about her life as she arranged jewels upon jewels. She thought about her life very slowly. She felt her brain get slow, clear, and focused. Organizing jewels took care of the nervous part of her brain and replaced it with a pleasant sensation of having done a good job cleaning jewels. She felt like she was creating order in the universe as the jewels disappeared. As she was clearing away jewels, she wondered "Isn't it time yet to become part of the world?" What world? After all, the world was also right where she was living. Her bed was as much the world as anything outside it. The world included her phone, her bed, these jewels. The world included her doing this. How could she ever become more a part of it? So she cleaned away the jewels, assured there was nowhere she had to go.”
― Sheila Heti, Pure Colour

“On dry days, Bobbi and I walked along underused paths, kicking leaves and talking about things like the idea of landscape painting. Bobbi thought the fetishization of untouched nature was intrinsically patriarchal and nationalistic. "I like like houses better than fields," I observed. "They're more poetic, because they have people in them.”
― Sally Rooney, Conversations with Friends

“Have you forgotten that a poet lies down in the shade of the future? She is calling out, she is waiting. Our lives are the lines missing from the fragments. There is the hope of becoming in all our forms and genres. The future of Sappho shall be us.”
― Selby Wynn Schwartz, After Sappho

“The reading break began and those who liked books stopped reading.”
― Ian McEwan, What We Can Know