A few days earlier, Adriana and I had been browsing books at the local library. I happened to turn around and look at her...and that was it. The man who "loved to laugh" in Mary Poppins had nothing on us. ↗
I liked, as I like still, to make words look self-conscious and foolish, to bind them by mock marriage of a pun, to turn them inside out, to come upon them unawares. What is this jest in majesty? This ass in passion? How do god and devil combine to form a live dog? ↗
She had surrendered her virtue at six-and-ten, to a beautiful blond-haired sailor on a trading galley up from Lys. He only knew six words of the Common Tongue, but “fuck” was one of them—the very word she’d hoped to hear. ↗
The wild women in his lap,' my father enthused, 'laying their breasts on his head.'
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then my mother spoke slowly, with an edge to her voice. 'I think you mean "wild beasts laying their heads in his lap".'
'Do I? ↗
