Antonia Lloyd-Jones

Life in a crowd is worse than prison.’

You’d have suffered quietly in the East

full of sudden anxiety.

The shoelaces had been tied with great care in a double bow; how strange that someone who had laced their boots so precisely that very morning was dead by the afternoon.

It seemed totally out of place, as if ironical.

The entire conversation sounded like the mutterings of people who do not need words to communicate.

Food always had good 46associations for him.

The ritual of the fall had started, as if the proximity of death activated reserves of extraordinary energy in these trees that, instead of continuing to support life, allowed them to celebrate dying.

Rolls of fabric, a stocking, skin, muscles…

‘Anxiety is the fruit of ignorance.