Selene’s Reviews > Our Infinite Fates > Status Update

Oh, verpiss dich.” I pulled out the gold pistol tucked in my breast pocket and shot Ferenc neatly in the head.

“I thought I was supposed to be the poet. Though, without you, there would be no poetry. I would have only the harsh lens of my own worldview. I wouldn’t be able to see the beauty of life, because I only see it through your eyes. Muse is too simple a word for what you are to me.” My mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “And yet, life after life, you take away the possibility of the cottage by the sea.”

medical student with floppy blond hair and the general aura of the very hungover. As he fumbled with his stethoscope behind Dr. Onwuemezi, the doctor’s impatience wafted off her in such severe waves that I was genuinely quite fearful for the student’s safety.

Far from it,” replied Dylan with an earnest beam. “I don’t know anyone more alive.” He reached out a hand, then withdrew it again. “I was going to ruffle your hair, but you don’t have any.” “Twat,” snapped Gracie, but she was laughing once more.

“On that note, I brought you something,” he said, scooping his backpack off the floor. Unzipping it carefully, he pulled out something wrapped in brown parcel paper, tied with a frayed length of twine in a clumsy bow. There was a mud print on the front that looked suspiciously like a pig’s hoof.

OMG HELP 😂 I LOVE THE WORD SUSPICIOUSLY IN THESE CONTEXTS

Has she made any more jokes?” I whispered to Gracie, gesturing toward Mum. Gracie nodded gravely. “She handed me a baseball cap and called it my ‘egg cup.’ It was embarrassing for everyone involved.”

Instead, we had blades to the throat. Poetry books found frozen in the taiga. Arrows through the heart. Great monuments burned to the ground. A sense of both permanence and impermanence. Transient, ephemeral, but also somehow enduring. enduring.

Their personhood was not as simple as a list of definitive attributes and traits, and they had no fixed body to marvel over. What fascinated me, what compelled me so profoundly, was that theirs was a soul in the truest sense. A way of thinking, a way of feeling, their emotional contours shifting with culture and history and experience but never yielding entirely

this is how bees make honey: they suck careful nectar from open flowers and bring their bounty back to the hive, where they kiss it from mouth to mouth until it runs thick and sweet. every parent we have ever loved walked this glorious earth gathering nectar from the flowers of their lives, kissing it into the mouths of their children, and now the honey is ours. —AUTHOR UNKNOWN