““Madlaline’s stories stirred up an old restlessness in me, an urge I’d always had to strike out headlong into the world, to be dauntless. By comparison my own life seemed crushingly ordinary. I foresaw my life unfolding as an interminable stretch of nothingness…feeling like a stand-in for myself, a proxy, as though my real self resided elsewhere, waiting to unite someday with this dimmer more hollow self.””