Friday, March 25

on chesil beach

rereading to feel again the sheer beauty of the words he is able to put together.

falling in love was revealing to her just how odd she was, how habitually sealed off in her everyday thoughts. whenever edward asked, how do you feel? or, what are you thinking? she always made an awkward answer. had it taken her this long to discover that she lacked some simple mental trick that everyone else had, a mechanism so ordinary that no one ever mentioned it, an immediate sensual connection to people and events, and to her own needs and desires? all these years she had lived in isolation within herself, and, strangely, from herself, never wanting or daring to look back.

ian mcewan ~ on chesil beach

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