Three points for the dead slowly prising open the lids of their coffins. They want to hunt the living. They can't stop. Their throats have turned to liquid and their fingers glint under the weak autumn sun. — 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
