A Certain Hunger

Челси Саммерс

Цитаты

darinakh11 апреля 2023 г.
Without me and people like me, food commoners would be like Sims characters, turning endless, aimless circles, appetites spinning them into unrequited nothingness.
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darinakh10 апреля 2023 г.
From my mother, I learned that beauty was armor. From my teenage friends, I learned that femininity was junk. They were both right.
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darinakh10 апреля 2023 г.
It doesn’t matter; language always fails, especially in death.
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darinakh9 апреля 2023 г.
Love is the languid sigh of death, and no one will ever convince me otherwise.
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darinakh9 апреля 2023 г.
It’s not that women psychopaths don’t exist; it’s that we fake it better than men.
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darinakh9 апреля 2023 г.
I can’t, of course, tamper with the MRIs, but even neurologists admit that when it comes to mapping the human brain, we are Christopher Columbus: motivated by dubious ethics to search for a route to Asia and “discovering” these America-shaped continents by mistake. Brains are an imprecise science, in short. Easy to fake and even easier to deceive.
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darinakh8 апреля 2023 г.
Preverbal, love is the smell of a known body, the touch of a recognized hand, the blurred face in a haze of light. Words come, and love sharpens. Love becomes describable, narratable, relatable. Over time, one love comes to lay atop another, a mother’s love, a father’s love, a lover’s love, a friend’s love, an enemy’s love. This promiscuous mixing of feelings and touches, of smiles and cries in the dark, of half-hushed pleasures and heart-cracking pain, of shared unutterable intimacies and guttural expressions, layer in embellished bricolage. One love coats another, like the clear pages of an anatomy textbook, drawing pictures of things we can only ever see in fractions. With the coming of words, love writes and is then overwritten; love is marginalia illegibly scrawled in your own illegible hand. In time, love becomes a dense manuscript, a palimpsest of inscrutable, epic proportions, one love overlaying another, thick and hot and stinking of beds. It’s an unreadable mess.
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LikaRamzy20 июля 2022 г.
“Your place is wherever you want it to be, Dorothy. You can work at home, like Mommy, or you can work outside, like Daddy. No matter what you do, be excellent at it, and always look your best.” She paused. “That way the bastards won’t ever get you down.”
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LikaRamzy9 июня 2022 г.
My home is mine, and I don’t like to share.
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Alex_Winter7 апреля 2022 г.
Наши тела — это склепы для бесчисленных тварей, которых мы съели, и мясная промышленность заботиться о нашем соучастии своими актами забвения, завёрнутыми в целлофан.
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