I’m floating. The absence of pain is powerful.

I don’t think I fully appreciated how relaxing it is having someone I can be really mean to. It’s going to be so hard being nice all the time.

She stood behind her mother’s chair and brushed her hair gently for about five minutes, drawing the brush smoothly from forehead to nape, over and over, in the way her mother liked. It was the only sustained physical contact she seemed to enjoy. Her usual mode of a kiss good-bye, for instance, was the kiss-and-push-you-on-your-way. She wasn’t a snuggler. No surprise, really, that this acceptable affection came via a prickly implement.

There’s nothing more satisfying than being stupid with a friend.

There’s this sky I know.

Something large and happy has unfolded in my chest, erupting in a smile that won’t quit. I can’t remember ever feeling so light-hearted. Or is my heart full? Or bursting? Not aching, that’s for sure.

It makes me feel tired about how guarded we are the whole time. Without even trying we’re ready to make a joke of everything, serving up the day with big dollops of irony and derision and cynicism. As if. Sucked in. Kidding.

As usual, I don’t know which way is north, but I know the direction of beauty.

We look at each other with shy relief. It’s the look two odd socks give when they recognise each other in the wild.

You don’t do anybody any favours by being less than you are.