The Knowledge Of Death Seemed Present In

Gogol Is Unaccustomed To This Sort Of Talk At Mealtimes, To The Indulgent Ritual Of The Lingering Meal, And The Pleasant Aftermath Of Bottles And Crumbs And Empty Glasses That Clutter The Table.

Try To Remember It Always," He Said Once Gogol Had Reached Him, Leading Him Slowly Back Across The Breakwater, To Where His Mother And Sonia Stood Waiting. "remember That You And I Made This Journey Together To A Place Where There Was Nowhere Left To Go.

There Were Times Ruma Felt Closer To Her Mother In Death Than She Had In Life, An Intimacy Born Simply Of Thinking Of Her So Often, Of Missing Her. But She Knew That This Was An Illusion, A Mirage, And That The Distance Between Them Was Now Infinite, Unyielding.

I Am Drawn To Any Story That Makes Me Want To Read From One Sentence To The Next. I Have No Other Criterion.

Still, There Are Times I Am Bewildered By Each Mile I Have Traveled, Each Meal I Have Eaten, Each Person I Have Known, Each Room In Which I Have Slept. As Ordinary As It All Appears, There Are Times When It Is Beyond My Imagination.