When I came from horizontal vertical straight all old stuff then suddenly I go also again in curved lines. And there I submit to changes in the intensity of my hand leading a tool, you see.

I only know there's something unsettling about a door that closes forever. I feel a vague lament about the changing of my body, the alterations in my appearance, the bleeding out of motherhood, the fear that I will not find the mysterious green fuse again.

He knelt among the shadows and felt his isolation bitterly. They were savages it was true; but they were human.

A space-time, between here and now and there and then, puncuated by dinner

Written By Margaret Atwood

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