A short story collection so beautiful, one quote is not enough:
“My eye, solitary, filled with its own history, is desperate to evade, erase, forget; it is watching now, watching fiercely, like a scientist looking for a cure, deciding for some days to forget about words, to know at last the words for colors, the blue-grey-green of the sea, the whiteness of the waves, will not work against the fullness of watching the rich chaos they yield and carry (33).”
“Brushing against each other, they both knew that they should do that only once or twice, and only when no one was watching them (275).”
Shullamuth Ballinger 