“People are supposed to accumulate, I thought, as they get older, but I seem to be sloughing off, like a person wrapped in a hundred layers of cellophane, tearing one layer off at a time, trying to get down to me.”
“Time seems to overlap, like the shadows of leave pressing down on other leave, layer upon layer.”
“Life is like an onion; you peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.”
“I love getting older," I muse as I carefully begin to peel the layers away. "You're closer to death, but there are presents.”
“One layer off from the deepest is a cartoon.”
“Then she compared the work we did to the peeling of an onion: "It takes a long time, and we peel the layers slowly, incrementally, transparent layers, around and around, peeling until we get to the core," then she smiled, "and there are always tears." (141)”