...you’d think my own face would know me... - Shirley Jackson

...remember the metallic sound and taste of all of it. And the outrage.

I am caught in a kind of wonder, I am still with joy.

Around her the trees and wildflowers, with that oddly courteous air of natural things suddenly interrupted in their pressing occupations of growing and dying, turned toward her with attention, as though, dull and imperceptive as she was, it was still necessary for them to be gentle to a creation so unfortunate as not to be rooted in the ground, forced to go from one place to another, heart-breakingly mobile.