I am reading Mary Gaitskill’s “Don’t Cry” a collection of short stories about contemporary life in NYC, the subtleties of human relationship, the intricacies of sexual relationship, the undertones of human exchange.
Sometimes I am folding down the pages becasue the words are so good…
….”we still felt the silken warmth of our stories breathing between us, a live tissue of affectionate trust that appears to give us shelter each time we meet.”
…..”Sometimes it seemed to be an empty life, but that wasn’t really true. It wasn’t empty, it was more that the people and events in it were difficult to put together in any way that felt whole.”
“Her Strength, her social identity had been stripped from her as time had stripped her youth. But her private world had moved forward to fill the empty space. I thought, This is why I always trusted her. Because my private identity was my strength, I could sense hers even when I couldn’t see it , and I knew it could be trusted.”
I love well chosen words that point towards the center.