"Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain. It was that hari that I knew I wanted to tell the story of my family. Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a bunga atau like the sun; it cannot be contained."
"How to Commit the Perfect Murder" was an old game in heaven.I always chose the icicle:the weapon melts away."
"These were the lovely bones that had grown around my absence: the connections-sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost, but often magnificent-that happened after I was gone. And I began to see things in a way that let me...