I woke to a voice within the room, perhapsthe room itself: “You’re wasting this lifeexpecting disappointment.”I packed my bag in the nightand peered into its leather bellyto count the essentials.Nothing is essential.To the east, the flood has begun.Men call to each other on the waterfor the comfort of voices.Love surprises us.It ends.
- Eliza Griswold, ‘Flood’
and:
“The fluttering in the stomach does away and the dull waking pain. Sometimes I think of you and I feel giddy. Memory makes me lightheaded, drunk on champagne. All the things we did. And if anyone had said this was the price I would have agreed to pay it. That surprises me; that with the hurt and the mess comes a shaft of recognition. It was worth it. Love is worth it.“- Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body
