“I had never seen her this way before, and I wondered why until I realized it was the tattoo; I saw, finally, there was magic at work here that was darker and deeper than I had imagined, that the tattoo was like putting a pair of spectacles on a child with poor vision. I stared up at the camp hill, my heart in my throat, and wondered what everything would look like, now that I could see.”

“Even Ayar's back tells the right time twice a day, and it was my turn to be right.”

“This is what happens when you take a step: you are moving closer to what you want.”

“I've had Good and I've had Bad, and the worst I had was Wonderful!”

“Then you are the bird, and the bird, and the bird.”

“Carrie? Hello?” “Keer-ee-eh,” I said, emphasizing the middle vowel.  Normally, I don’t care if people mispronounce my name, unusual as it is, but I was annoyed at the distraction. “Like the song?” Turning, I leveled a glare at my interrupter.  Not very good of me, customer-service wise, but I was not feeling myself. “Yes, I was named after the pop song,” I said. “Exactly.” “Why would your mom do that?” Because when you’re eighteen and pregnant and unmarried and homeless and that song comes on the radio, it holds a lot of spiritual and emotional meaning to your immature and overwhelmed little self.  But I didn’t say that.  Instead I shrugged. “Lots of parents name their kids after songs.”

“I cut off a piece of meatball dripping with sauce. I tried to make my face right. I tried to smile and not grimace, tried to close my eyes in delight , not panic; tried to swallow, not gag. They watched me like hawks.'Delicious,' I said, still chewing. They tasted like salt and shit and gristle.'As good as you remember?''Better.'I got through two. I drank a lot of water. I broke them down into fractions of themselves, sixteen more to go, fourteen more, eight, one. In my head I said sorry to grandad, and to the lamb or pig or mixture of creatures I was eating. I put my knife and fork together with four of them still swimming on my plate.”