Shoshanah

'Well, I love music. I love playing music. But I'd find it a hard thing to teach. I've always found it hard to talk about music.’

There is a time for any fledgling artist where one’s taste exceeds one’s abilities. The only way to get through this period is to make things anyway.

But lately that kind of intimacy felt impossible. She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, or when, but distance seemed to be spreading between them like spilled ink, staining everything.

What a world, Sadie thought. People once made glass sculptures of decay, and they put these sculptures in museums. How strange and beautiful human beings are. And how fragile.

"Our reality isn’t about what’s real, it’s about what we pay attention to.”

"... There are no ghosts, but up here”—she gestured toward her head—“it’s a haunted house.”