Sublime

garrulous

It was the only part of her life that was real. She didn’t know what to do with the rest. All the stories she knew were fiction, so she began to create new ones.

I’m Miss Holocaust, 1945.

strident:

eschew

perfunctory

For a moment I imagine that she and I have come to the Bel-Air in hopes the air will strengthen our fragile nerves, or that we are guests at the tuberculosis sanatorium in The Magic Mountain, wrapped up in fur blankets and waiting to have our temperatures taken.