Some books I buy for their title, others for brevity. I love short books - the way you know from the first page that it's going to end. - Amit Chaudhuri

The car horns created an anxious music, discordant but not indifferent.

On the big bed, Mamima and Sandeep’s mother began to dream, sprawled in vivid crab-like postures. His aunt lay on her stomach, her arms bent as if she were swimming to the edge of a lake; his mother lay on her back, her feet (one of which had a scar on it) arranged in the joyous pose of a dancer.

‘a speck of dust hanging/in a vertical wall of light.’ ( Letter from the Hills )