nana

“She slid an arm around me and kissed me on the side of my mouth in a way that made me love her terribly, though i had promissed god the opposite only minutes before.”
― Julia Armfield, Salt Slow

“When she was a child, she had inherited a ratty canvas tent which her mother had allowed her to drag down from the attic and sit inside. The thrill of a pretended journey had been enough to entertain her for days at time, zipped up with her books and a beakerful of cramberry juice, imagining strange shadows dancing on the fabric walls. You liked it because you liked four walls around you, her mother told her later, you liked to have things where you could see them - your little books and toys and pencils - to zip them up with you and keep them close.”
― Julia Armfield, Salt Slow

“I found myself wishing she'd come back as a vampire or a werewolf, something with fangs and a destructive will. As it was, the onus seemed to be on me to make something of the visit.”
― Julia Armfield, Salt Slow

“We didn't speak for three days, during which time I became so panicked at the thought of losing her that I sent her a total of thirty-nine hysterically casual messages - a photograph of my breakfast, a quote from a movie, a long text about which of my trains had been delayed that day.”
― Julia Armfield, Salt Slow