“That’s different,” I said. And it was. A portrait is a picture where somebody gets to choose what you look like. How they want to see you. A camera catches whichever you happens to be there when it clicks.” — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share Image
“There was something so electric about it. So dangerous. Those little touches were everything. I lived fro them. You can build a whole world around the tiniest of touches. Did you know that? Can you imagine? - Tobias Aldshaw” — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share
“It seemed like life was a sort of narrowing tunnel. Right when you were born, the tunnel was huge. You could be anything. Then, like, the absolute second after you were born, the tunnel narrowed down to about half that size. You were a boy, and already it was certain you wouldn’t be a mother and it was likely you… — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share
“Opening a present from a live person was scary enough. There was always the chance that the gift might be so wrong, so completely… — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share Image
“I wasn't interested in drinking beer or vodka or smoking cigarettes or doing all the other things Greta thinks I can't even imagine. I don't want to imagine those things. Anyone can imagine things like that. I want to imagine wrinkled time, and forests thick with wolves, and bleak midnight moors. I dream about people who don't need to have… — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share
“Things you'd never even seen with Finn could remind you of him, because he was the one person you'd want to show. "Look at… — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share Image
“Because maybe I don't want to leave the planet invisible. Maybe I need at least one person to remember something about me.” — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share Image
I stared hard, trying to find a pattern. Thinking if I kept looking hard enough, maybe the pieces of the world would fit back… — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share Image
“But maybe I am. Maybe that’s exactly what I am. Maybe all I wanted was for Toby to hear the wolves that lived in… — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share Image
“I didn’t want to care, but somehow, like always, I did. She was wired into my heart. Twisted and kinked and threaded right through.” — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share Image
“What kind of party?” “The good kind.” “Yeah, right.” Greta knows that for me there are no good parties. I’m okay with one or two people, but more than that and I turn into a naked mole rat. That’s what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light is too bright. Like the best place I… — Carol Rifka Brunt Copy Share
