The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

modern Manhattan woman,

She stands there until she realizes she is waiting. Waiting for someone to help. To come and fix the mess she’s in. But no one is coming. No one remembers, and if she resigns herself to waiting, she will wait forever. So she walks.

Palimpsest.

It would be an unconventional life, and perhaps a little lonely, but at least it would be hers. She would belong to no one but herself.

unmoored,

Up above it may be early spring, but down here it is late summer, humid and heavy.

reached the street. He thinks of that before

who sprang up from the ground itself with gnarled hands and woody skin and roots deep enough to tap into her own hidden well.

gossamer