In My Head There's A Broken Balcony

I Want To Know Everything About You, So I Tell You Everything About Myself.

It Was Like That Class At School Where The Teacher Talks About Realization, About How You Could Realize Something Big In A Commonplace Thing. The Example He Gave--and The Liar Said It Really Happened--was That Once While Drinking Orange Juice, He'd Realized He Would Be Dead Someday. He Wondered If We, His Students, Had Had Similar 'realizations.' Is He Kidding? I Thought. Once I Cashed A Paycheck And I Realized It Wasn't Enough. Once I Had Food Poisoning, And Realized I Was Trapped Inside My Body.

It Is Possible To Imagine A Person So Entirely That The Image Resists Attempts To Dislodge It.

As Soon As I Knew That I Would Be All Right, I Was Sure That I Was Dead And Didn't Know It. I Moved Through The Days Like A Severed Head That Finishes A Sentence. I Waited For The Moment That Would Snap Me Out Of My Seeming Life.

A Five-hour Flight Works Out To Three Days And Nights On Land, By Rail, From Sea To Shining Sea. You Can Chalk Off The Hours On The Back Of The Seat Ahead. But Seventy-some Hours Will Not Seem So Long To You If You Tell Yourself First: This Is Where I Am Going To Be For The Rest Of My Natural Life.