“ Feathers fell from the sky. Like black snow, they drifted onto an old city called Bath. ”
Once people see you cry, it's like they own part of you. It's like you ripped a hole in yourself, and they saw through whatever armor you had on, got a good long view of all the screaming alien goop underneath.
~ Stefan Bachmann
I look up at the painting. It's not even that interesting. Definitely doesn't grab me and shake my brain around like the meadow scene did.
He had an image in his mind of a gaggle of long-necked geese, all done up in petticoats and crinolines, sitting around a stuffy parlor and talking about him.
Stop it, Misha. Stop being so frightened of everything. But she couldn't stop. She carried fear with her like a little animal, curled in the nook behind her heart, and it whispered to her. You are weak, you are frightened, and you will never dare do anything at all.
