‘For the last three days they have been aware of each other, glances flashed between the turn and rustle of a page.’

‘I’m giving away some of my junk and – sneakily, while he’s at school – some of Leo’s bits ‘n’ bobs. Bye, bye, cat scratcher. The cats prefer my armchairs for that.’

‘Below me, a boat was being landed in a harbour; a man had jumped out from the boat onto the sand and was dragging the boat in by a rope. Another man stood in the boat balancing himself against the ceaseless waves. In the bottom of the boat were two large fish and lying across them sticking out from the bow of the boat, was a gaff and this must be how the men had landed the fish.’

‘The first time I stole someone’s face, I was sixteen and in love.’

‘When you’re pulled from the rubble you’ll need something warm. A jumper, perhaps. Or a blanket. I think I have enough wool for a small blanket, for something big enough to cover your infant frame.’

‘Upon landing, Johannes Kepler looks back at Earth, a blue-green ball tossed high in lunar sky. He makes the grunt of satisfaction known to his most intimate friends, dips quill and writes: it is only possible to experience such homesick affection when one admires a beloved object from afar.’

‘If you are hearing this for the first time, press 3 now. If not, simply wait.’

‘When Suzanne died, I might have been thinking of her. Not of her exactly, but that she was often a part of what I thought about. To divide one from the other would be like separating salt from the sea: possible, but to do so made it not what it was.’

‘You’re telling me how you never saw your mother touch your father, how the first time you realised this you were—’

‘and shackled to the aeroplane by twin navy earphones – unwrapped, jammed uncarefully in. The flutter of a clarinet, the collage of images that belong to the city disappearing underneath me, the city of George Gershwin, the city New York. The engines lift me above his world in glissando, I shut in the tears. In the open sky – Rhapsody in Blue.’

‘Her mouth is a haze of movement, as though the painter could not commit to a specific pose. I turn away from the cool column of justification. She is not untouched, and looks upwards periodically to let the line of moisture along her lower lids sink back in.’

‘The first thing you need to know about your death is that you are [right] / [wrong]:’

‘I’m on your dad’s couch watching porn when my water breaks. It’s some really messed up shit about a woman who works in a greenhouse. There are garden tools involved and unwashed vegetables pulled straight out of the planters.’

‘It’s green in the garden. Deep green and cool; lush like nettles. Even on the hottest days, she can weave from one edge to the other and never feel the burning smudge of sun on her skin.’

‘Picture this.

Teenage girl, cherry lip gloss, posters on the wall. Sick of being told what and what not to do. Plugs in her stereo. Bang.’

‘We stand in a trembling line. The cold leaches our courage out through bare feet and thin cotton shifts. I stare down at the shadows from the torches, the dancing edges blurring as dawn approaches. The girl next to me has been weeping since her father handed her over, an exchange on the threshold at midnight.’

‘Our balcony is, I suppose, a sparse place to the casual observer. An unruly lemon verbena plant with browning leaves, a fold-down wooden table, and four chairs with cushions mismatched in size and colour are all that sit on the cracked blue tiles.’

‘The Brewer brought me a copy of Tin House. He made a special trip, walked through 2012’s last chilly snakebite sky to get it.’

‘‘Cygnus olor,’ said a voice at his ear. It was one of those annoying voices; a girl’s voice, of the sort that read poems out in assembly. He glanced up. Standing beside him was a girl, aged about ten like him, but bristling with confidence, her hair wound tight in a bun.’

‘Atlas is my true given name.’