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Have you read Deleuze and Guattari? she asks, and I have to hide a smile; she hasn’t acquired the defensive veneer that would prevent her from asking open-ended questions like that. There is something so earnest about her, a yearning for connection on some other plane than the everyday, or that she…

I wake in the middle of the night from a bad dream that was actually a good dream. In my dream I was pregnant. It was before and I was still pregnant. I was so relieved to find out I hadn’t lost the baby after all. And then when I wake up I am devastated all over again.

Looking out the kitchen window, across the street, there is a light on in the chambre de bonne. As I stare at it, in the building dark but distinct against the sky, it seems to me that I am suddenly seeing the light on in that room as others have seen the light on in that room for a hundred years. …

It takes me considerably longer to get ready in the morning, or to go to sleep at night. Leaving aside the complicated network of decisions involved in putting clothes on, there are a nearly infinite number of products which must be employed in the ongoing campaign to appear young, thin, well reste…

[...] Then there are the cabinets, on which we are forever hitting our heads when they’re open. Tear them out (how joyful that day will be). Honest exposed shelving running along the walls. Nothing to hide. Here are our glasses. Here are our plates. David’s mother made little sceptical noises when …