That date. 1991. Unbelievable. I was 31 years old. Why had I not known about all this? I, who had studied history not only in school but during my first year in university? Why was the world not screaming about the torture and killing taking place on a vast scale every day?
Dorit has now reached a level of self-absorption that you feel she’d walk out of Madame Butterfly if they weren’t singing about her. Not that she’d understand it. The only language she spouts worse than the Italian she claims to speak is English. Please, can someone teach her the difference between “I” and “me”.
I am wont to quote (often) Rainer Maria Rilke and his line from his poem Go to the Limits of Your Longing – ‘No feeling is final.’
It isn’t.
Until it is.
Or, at the very least, feels as if it is.
While the adage ‘Time is a great healer’ is true, I prefer to think of time as a great changer. I don’t think pain is ever healed; it just shifts its focus.
‘There is only one solitude, and it is vast, heavy, difficult to bear, and almost everyone has hours when he would gladly exchange it for any kind of sociability, however trivial or cheap, for the tiniest outward agreement with the first person who comes along.’ Rainer Maria Rilke
I confess to crying when I see the Lindt bunnies in shops, warm in their gold foil and red ribbon scarves. Mum bought be one every year when she stopped buying me eggs, as I was never a huge chocolate fan once childhood passed. These days, I can make a Kit Kat last a month.
What sex is on my birth certificate, the man patiently explained. Look, mate, I have a goddamned whacking great hole between my legs that small creatures the size of water melons can emerge if ever I’d managed to hang on to a bloke long enough to shag me senseless.
Brooklyn . . . Both your parents are incredibly hard workers and that’s what’s made them the huge successes they have become. You really should try it – or was it just easier to pick up your trophy billionaire in the VIP enclosure at Coachella, doubtless paid for by your parents?
I’ve felt like throwing up almost every day, my stomach a labyrinth of fear about what fresh hell the forthcoming day might bring.