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When she bleeds the smells I know change colour. There is iron in her soul on those days. She smells like a gun.

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Scarlett Thomas

If something wants to be a story, it will be.

Ifs, Stories, Story, Want
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Real life is physical. Give me books instead. Give me the invisibility of the contents of books, the thoughts, the ideas, the images. Let me become part of a book. . . . an intertextual being: a book cyborg, or, considering that books aren't cybernetic, perhaps a bibliorg.

Bibliorg, Book, Ideas, Intertextual, Life, Real

You tell them what a happy ending consists of, which is always individual success. You tell them that nothing irrational exists in this world, which is a lie. You tell them that conflict only exists only to be neatly resolved, and that everyone who is poor wants to be rich, and everyone who is ill wants to get better, and everyone who gets involved in crime comes to a bad end, and that love should be pure. You tell them that despite all this they are special, that the world revolves around them.

Get Better, Involved, Love, Lying, Special, Success

So if we're all quarks and electrons. . . " he begins. What?" We could make love and it would be nothing more than quarks and electrons rubbing together. " Better than that," I say. "Nothing really 'rubs together' in the microscopic world. Matter never really touches other matter, so we could make love without any of our atoms touching at all. Remember that electrons sit on the outside of atoms, repelling other electrons. So we could make love and actually repel each other at the same time.

Making Love, Matter, Repel, Say, Together, Touching

I pray for meaning. I pray for the limits of reality to become clear. For a world – and a type of being – that makes sense. I pray for a life after death that is not like this life. I pray for the end of mystery. What would a life be like with all the mysteries solved? If there were no questions, there’d be no stories. If there were no stories, there’d be no language. If there was no language there’d be no. . . What?

Language, Life Is Like, Like, Limits, Pray, Reality

Over to my left is the big grey wall in front of the church. Are we the Thoughts of God? a poster asks. No, I realise. It's the reverse.

Church, Grey, Left, Posters, Realise, Wall
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