Ghost Wall
Sarah Moss
"They bring her out. Not blindfolded, but eyes widened to the last sky, the last light. The last cold bites her fingers and her face, the stones bruise her bare feet. There will be more stones, before the end."
"They bring her out. Not blindfolded, but eyes widened to the last sky, the last light. The last cold bites her fingers and her face, the stones bruise her bare feet. There will be more stones, before the end."
"It was almost the end of the ninth month in the Tibetan calendar, but it was still hot in the city, on top of which his fur jacket was a bit too thick, making him sweat profusely and feel an unbearable thirst. He really regretted that he hadn’t worn something lighter yesterday."
"They arrive in Tilly’s Cadillac, Uncle Andrew behind the wheel. He gets out, tall and lanky, and stretches his back before swinging the door shut. He’s a runner, a high-school math teacher and track coach on his second marriage. He has traveled the country running marathons, and in Boston and New York he places high in his age group; in smaller marathons he sometimes wins; he founded the Bloomfield Runners Club and for years has trained his students on weekends and summer break; he is a disappointment to his mother."
"The morning of the solar eclipse began like any other. Rue de Belleville was already littered with pedestrians. Car horns rang out. Metal grill gates thrashed upward. Children whined as mothers dragged them to school. Pensioners, in no particular hurry, made their way to the park, greeting one another in slow motion, while young professionals rushed by in a beeline to the metro station."
"The muskrat is an important animal. It lives in holes. It seldom experiences any of the extreme forms of anxiety. It is not in holes because of that. It does not fear nuclear attack. It smells bad, hence the name. It smells good to other muskrats. We have no idea how it smells to other muskrats. At what point will we cease being fond of it? It used to be valued in coats. They were not called muskrat coats because that was too much like rat coats. It doesn’t like being made into coats."
"Since last night I haven’t done a thing to save the world. While Sister Taddea tells us one of her stories with an unhappy ending, I think back to my expedition into the enemy encampment and to one phrase in particular that I overheard: “He needs to find his own way.” The meaning is clear, I have to figure out what particular route will allow me to save the world, but the word “way” for some reason makes my thoughts turn strange and I imagine the way as a street, paved with asphalt, with white lines painted on it."
"Our Christmas party that year (1916) was gay and interesting. The house was made lovely with bright coloured paper garlands and evergreen swags and Chinese lanterns. We acted a play which Katherine Mansfield hurriedly wrote called The Laurels. Dr Kite, the chief character, was played by Lytton Strachey, who was a wonderful actor. I don’t remember it very vividly, except that he wore a great fur coat and a paper mask with a red worsted beard, made for him by Carrington."
"Carson insists that his determination to arm Ulster is ultimately grounded in a wish to prevent Ireland’s partition. He declares that he, too, wants a unified Ireland—but one that remains in the old union with Britain."
"Another year and I think I should say goodbye to the island for good. For four years I’ve moved from one enclosed space to another, and this last winter I descended several moldy steps to begin living in an underground room."
"To begin with, there was the malaria. I had been in Gabon in the Peace Corps, where my job was to help people improve their nutrition and access potable water. I helped design and implement a water filtration system and was in the midst of building a community center with a large kitchen and a bare-bones medical clinic. I swam with hippos, danced myself, with thirty others, into a trance state, read a lot of Ian Fleming novels, and lost almost twenty pounds."
"Though the snow picked up as Fu pulled into Pennington, the town still felt sunny and sweet. Fu’s driving stayed solid, but the ice made him slow his speed, giving David ample time to scan the neighborhood. Lots of yuletide cheer and a distinct lack of corporate presence."
"The lavender shawl looked good on my language, it covered its overly long neck and gave its unspoken appearance both gentleness and resoluteness. Now all of that’s gone and my language doesn’t even turn its collar up."
"He remembered her having been mad for several years, but the A Liang he had just seen was like a dewy lotus flower. He suspected he had mistaken someone else for her."
"Again I approach the Church, St. Joseph’s at Howard and Tenth, south of Market in San Francisco. It’s a disconcerting structure, in late Mission style, but capped with two gold domed towers out of some Russian Orthodox dream. I’m following two uniformed cops, in the late afternoon this October, we’re followed by the sun as we mount the steps to the big brass doors and enter into the darkness of the nave."
"The day Somebody McSomebody put a gun to my breast and called me a cat and threatened to shoot me was the same day the milkman died."
"We traveled through time and space till cosmic silver started to nestle in our hair."
"In my childhood, I was known as the boy whose mother had run off with an Englishman. The man was in fact German, but in small-town India in those days, all white foreigners were largely thought of as British. This unconcern for accuracy annoyed my scholarly father even in circumstances as dire as losing his wife to another man."
"“He says his ex-wife’s been sending him strange garbled emails recently,” I said. We’d found a table in the seating area of the department store’s food hall. I was still thinking about the ex-wife following the refrigerator conversation."
"I had noticed the boy earlier, a young man of about twenty-two carrying drinks to the tables, for he was very beautiful and it seemed that he had been glancing in my direction as I drank my wine. A startling idea formed in my mind that he was drawn to me physically, even though I knew that such a notion was absurd."
"For a moment I raised my eyes from the manuscript I was editing and looked out the streaked plate glass (New Jersey Transit doesn’t do windows either) at the drab towns racing by, on their way to some unknown western destination. A man sat next to me. I didn’t look at him but I saw his well-pressed, superbly tailored trousers and Gucci loafers on his stretched-out feet."
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