Was It Possible That I Was, In

Not Everything People Did Could Be In A Correct, Logical Order, Especially When They Were Alone.

One Could Drown In Irrelevance.

She Wanted To Leave, She Wanted To Lie Alone Face Down On Her Bed And Savor The Vile Piquancy Of The Moment, And Go Back Down The Lines Of Branching Consequences To The Point Before The Destruction Began. She Needed To Contemplate With Eyes Closed The Full Richness Of What She Had Lost, What She Had Given Away, And To Anticipate The New Regime.

The Evasions Of Her Little Novel Were Exactly Those Of Her Life. Everything She Did Not Wish To Confront Was Also Missing From Her Novella--and Was Necessary To It.

Perhaps The Greatest Reading Pleasure Has An Element Of Self-annihilation. To Be So Engrossed That You Barely Know You Exist.