The record was scratched, the crooning broken. The pieces cut our feet. It was dawn and she was lost. I put back the houses on the road, aligned the telegraph poles along the river and the stray cats jumping across the road. I put back the hills. The road came out of my mouth like a velvet ribbon — it lay there serpentine. The houses opened their eyes. The keyhole had an ironic curve, like a question mark. The woman's mouth.
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submitted by SylphofLight, October 26, 2016
From essayist and memoirist Anaïs Nin (1903-1977), as part of her first work of fiction House of Incest (1936).
This quote was added November 29, 2007.