“The lady in Chicago survived, she told me, through stories. Which is at the core of traditional therapy: retelling the family saga. Talk about it, the old wisdom says, and you get better. From narratives about childhood, this woman manufactured a self, neither cut off from her past nor mired in it.”
“Happiness was for boneheads, a dumb fog you sank into. Pain, low-level and constant, was a vigil you kept. The vigil had something to do with looking out for your own death, and with living in some constant state of watchful despair.”
“Rotten cocksucking motherfucking hausfrau.”
Ultimemente tenho lido muitas memoirs, atraem-me cada vez mais. Não que a ficção não tenha os seus méritos mas a maior parte é tão organizadinha que me aborrece que tudo encaixe tão bem. The Liars’ Club lembrou-se a Lucia Berlin, de que gosto tanto. Famílias disfuncionais, já dizia o Tolstoi.