Up in the highlands blizzards howl like the widows of fishermen and the wind blisters the skin off your face. Winter comes like a punch in the dark. The uninhabited places are as cruel as any executioner.
Hannah KentSleep came to me like a thin tide of water. It would lap against my body but never submerge me.
Hannah KentI prefer a story to a prayer.
Hannah KentMots clés stories
I don't want to be remembered, I want to be here!
Hannah KentThey will see the whore, the madwoman, the murderess, the female dripping blood into the grass and laughing with her mouth choked with dirt. They will say “Agnes” and see the spider, the witch caught in the webbing of her own fateful weaving. They might see the lamb circled by ravens, bleating for a lost mother. But they will not see me. I will not be there.
Hannah KentIt was only later that I suffocated under the weight of his arguments, and his darker thoughts articulated. It was only later that our tongues produced landslides, that we became caught in the cracks between what we said and what we meant, until we could not find each other, did not trust the words in our own mouths.
Hannah KentI was worst to the one I loved best.
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