“We all love conflagrations. When the sky changes color, it is a dead man's passing.”
“The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.”
“We are not trapped or locked up in these bones. No, no. We are free to change. And love changes us. And if we can love one another, we can break open the sky.”
“The sky above the island was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel—which is to say it was a bright, cheery blue.”
“I am because we are. We all bleed the same color. We all want to love and be loved.”
“Sky passed out on the road today," Karen says, changing the subject. "Some adorable man-boy carried her inside." I laugh. "Guy, Mom. Please just say guy.”