Every seven years our bodies change, every cell. Every seven years, we disappear. — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
Every few years we disappear, Zoey. All our cells are replaced by others. Not a single bit of me is the same as when I was last in this room. — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
“Sklupčam se u podnožju stubišta. To je mjesto gdje mačka sjedi kad hoće da se ljudi spotaknu preko nje. Uvijek sam htjela biti mačka.… — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
It's as if a child with a brush and too much enthusiasm has been set free with a tin of black paint inside me. — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
It was strange how words meant something when they came out of your mouth. Inside your head they were safe and silent, but once… — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
“I sit up in bed and watch her fiddle about in the back of my wardrobe. I think she's got a plan. That's what's… — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
“I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish he lived in the wardrobe on a coat hanger. Whenever I wanted, I could get him… — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
Life is made up of a series of moments, each one a journey to the end. — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back… — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
“Hey, listen,' I say. " Fascinating as this is, we've got to go now. I have to collect the invites for my funeral." That… — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
“Zatvaram oči i zamišljam da sam drvo okupano sunčevim svjetlom, da ne želim ništa osim kiše.” — Jenny Downham Copy Share Image
