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Where are you going? I asked. The middle of nowhere. I thought this was it. Nah. You shook your head. This is just the edge.

Lucy Christopher

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Asked
Head
Middle
Thought
Shook
Going
Nowhere
Edge
Edges

More quotes by Lucy Christopher

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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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It was so big, that view. I’ll never remember it properly. How can anyone remember something that big? I don’t think people’s brains are designed for memories like that. They’re designed for things like phone numbers, or the color of someone’s hair. Not hugeness.
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The land wants you here. I want you here, you called. Don't you care about that at all?
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You nodded towards the cup. Want more? I shook my head. What about the car? Didn't find it. You were heading back towards me when I found you. Towards . . . ? You nodded. So I reckoned the car had probably got stuck or died somehow, and you were just coming home. Home? Yeah. Your mouth twitched. Back to me.
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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.
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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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In a moment, when I'm ready, I will turn off this computer and that will be it. This letter will be finished. A part of me doesn't want to stop writing to you, but I need to. For both of us.
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It happened like this. I was stolen from an airport. Taken from everything I knew, everything I was used to. Taken to sand and heat, dirt and danger. And he expected me to love him. This is my story. A letter from nowhere.
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You looked at me, your eyes huge. You we're like a dog then, waiting for me to throw you a bone . . . waiting for something I could never give you.
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Doesn't that hurt? I said. Yep. How do you keep them in there? I'm stubborn. You grinned. Stubborn as a waddywood. And anyway, pain means it's healing. Not always.
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I want you to see that the person I glimpsed running beside the camel, running to save my life, is the person you can choose to be.
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I mean, that star over there is blinking at me madly now, but for how long? An hour or two, or for the next million years? And how long will we sit here like this? Just another moment, or the rest of our lives? You know which one I'd prefer.
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But what else can I do, other than to plead with you like this? Other than to write down my story, our story, to show you that what you've done . . . to make you realize that what you did wasn't fair, wasn't right.
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How would she find her herd? How would she find you?
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I could hear you, talking to the daffodils and tulips, whispering to the fairies that lived inside their petals. Each separate flower had a different family inside it.
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I didn’t look back, but I knew you were still watching. It probably sounds weird, but I could just feel it. The hairs on my neck bristled when you blinked.
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I remember the lights turning into blurs of blazing fire. I remember the air-conditioning chilling my arms. The smell of coffee smudging into the smell of eucalyptus.
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I love you, you said, simple as anything.
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