„My bathrobe had opened, revealing my legs, and I stared at my knee bones. “You’re never going to come back, are you?” I said. My lungs seemed to close up.
“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” he said. “I’ll see you. We can talk.”
“No,” I said.
“You won’t even have coffee with your old friend?”
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He closed the door very quietly behind him and never came back. I saw him, of course, from time to time – in the library, on the street – but because I went to great lengths to avoid him, our encounters were few. Stephen was out of my life, and yet I would carry around his ghost for months afterward – a beautiful, maddening creature that ate me alive.“

Siri Hustvedt, The Blindfold

Ich liebe, liebe, liebe ihre Sprache so sehr. So wenige Worte, so viel in ihnen versteckt, so präzise, so wunderschöne Zitate (never came back, I saw him), so wunderbare Rhythmen (in the library, on the street).