Status Updates From Searoad: Chronicles of Klat...

‘—got down on—knees to free the lilies—women should be the undertakers; or maybe not. An image—Dickens—in her mind—women cackling, gambling, heartless, appropriate—I don’t understand the triumph people take in telling about seeing ghosts, like they—outwitted common sense—But the messages still came—I said we had the same name—She said she had another name, before. Whatever is to come, I love. This is why I was born—’

The stories are supposed to be "slice of life" but they feel more like crumbs - they end so abruptly.

‘It was the only sound but the sound of the sea coming in the open window and filling the room—full of sound that sounds like the sea but is something else, your blood running in your veins—an uneasy sense of dwindling, weighing nothing—There’s no use defying whatever orthodoxy your culture has adopted. You just end up as a witch. I realise now that that is really why I got married: better to marry than to burn.’

‘Just like some goddamn sitcom. Everything about (them) was exactly like some goddamn sitcom. Waiting—just like a soap opera. Everything the same as it was for everybody else, the same things happening over and over and over—all petty—trivial—& you couldn’t ever get free. It clung to you, held on, pinioned you. Like the dream she used to have of the room with wallpaper that caught and stuck to you, the Velcro dream.’