More than anything, more than anything she had with him, she missed the language they had invented, the likes of which she had never had nor would again. The thoughts and ideas he had birthed...

He falls quiet again and tries to understand how he can be saying these things, how it can be that his dark words are coming out into the light and yet he is still alive....

Only now, in rhythmic waves, was she struck by her stupidity, her blindness, her estheronautiness, and, above all, her longing, the insult of the power of her longing, and she knew very well that is...

again, her singing was her only absolute, the only thing that was completely her. a thousand classes hadn’t given her this concrete insight: her voice was her place in the world, the home she leaves...

Then a calm fell upon him. The gushing began from all sorts of places, all over his body. He heard pleasurable little giggles on the outer edges of his mind, in the dark creases behind...

and suddenly I am washed over by a wave of happiness for it, for my little story, because it is a place, a home even, and I can go back to it from wherever I...

the opposite”; she knew it was the opposite of her.

Dopo aver fatto l’amore, dormiremo abbracciati. La tua schiena contro il mio ventre. E io stringerò le dita dei piedi attorno alle tue caviglie, come delle mollette, perché tu non possa volar via la notte....