Helia’s Reviews > Everything I Know About Love > Status Update

I sat on the outside,I tried to imagine what it would feel like to find a sense of security in the person you went to bed with. I looked at the small gaps in between all their bodies and imagined the places that lay between them; the stories they had written together the memories and the language and the habits and the trust and future dreams they would have discussed while drinking wine late at night on the sofa.

When you are in the middle of a story it isn’t a story at all, but only a confusion; a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass and splintered wood; like a house in a whirlwind, or else a boat crushed by the icebergs or swept over the rapids, and all aboard powerless to stop it. It’s only afterwards that it becomes anything like a story at all. When you are telling it, to yourself or to someone else.