Sublime

Jetsam’s

and she held this knowledge inside her like a splinter, something she was careful not to touch.

way, rather

And they were familiar with death. In her small house Nóra could see that her neighbours were making room for sorrow in the way they knew to be best.

realised things had reached the point where I was now checking to see if the community was concealing itself in those tucked-away places too.

It may well be the sentence that for diverse reasons—because thinking about Woolf, or sickness, or essays, because trying to emulate a certain rhythm in my own writing—I’ve copied out by hand more than any other.

exhumation