Giselle’s Reviews > Bitter Water Opera > Status Update

"I put my car window down and let my fingers ride the wind."

"he gave me leaflets that explained orchard growing, perennial care, and other things. I thanked him, so overwhelmed by his casual kindness that I almost teared up."

"and the list of caretaking tasks expanded in their urgency so that a chasm grew between them and the possibility of me completing them. I couldn't do it on my own. I didn't even cry, just stared from beneath the blanket like a dead person."

"Whatever had surged within me on the pond was gone. [...] something had peeked from behind a tree -a hand or a long tail -long enough for me to spot it, before tucking itself away again."

"my limerence to be in the future, limerence for the so-called beauty of the past, limerence for other places I had no business living in, limerence for stew when I was eating pie, a limerence so strong that I was always in a world that didn't even exist. [...] a growing of a second person inside myself until I never said what I meant nor knew what I wanted."

"How did I end up here, and why didn't I have anyone to talk to? I felt singed by panic. I could've had Peter -but I couldn't have, because I desired someone else, and with them I would desire yet another."

limerence- mental state characterised by intrusive thoughts and idealizations of being in love.

"or Jean Rhys, whose absence went on for twenty years before released Wide Sargasso Sea."

and here is when I learned that good morning midnight was published waaay earlier that I thought and the polemic that she suffered after so I'm gonna keep reading her novels and a biography probably.

"I hadn't told anyone where I had gone. I'd vanished, as I always wanted."

"Inside was cold and quiet. Downstairs was a living room, a small country kitchen, and a long wooden staircase. Various recesses held tall solitary candles. Rooms furnished with simple wooden furniture, Harmmershøi-esque.
I tired quickly, made myself a cup of nettle tea from the cupboard above the kettle, and went upstairs. I got into bed wearing only a T-shirt, under four blankets covered in dust." noted

"His hand was large and he'd take mine to tuck into his coat pocket. He'd knock on the window of my office to show me a page in his book.
[...]
Yet something was always crouching at the door, a large shadowy shape."

even if it doesn't last I suppose, if it is like this.