“Era una persona con cui si poteva parlare. Forse non si desiderava tanto essere amati quanto essere capiti. In un certo senso avevano raggiunto qualcosa di più profondo dell'amicizia: l'intimità.”

“Mi trovo in una condizione bizzarra; non sono malato, ma non sto neppure bene.”

Well, if my heart must break,

All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.

“I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.”

We collect rainwater just outside the city. A bucket of wet sky, her laugh like a sonata.   My fingers shake in the tangled grass and she teaches me to smoke cigarettes. Be cool, be calm. Even after we get dressed to leave, I’ve got mud on my knees.   I am neither delicate or dazzling. Stumbly mouth, sadness not suitable for art.   How do you love a girl with fear curled at the back of her throat?