“It is in these moments of tender and ridiculous nostalgia that I know something inside me is still broken.”

“It shattered something inside me that hadn't been broken before.”

“I guess I'm still holding on to something that I know will probably never happen, because somewhere deep down inside me, I have this little piece of hope that someday, it will.”

“...I'm innocent still -inside me are stained glass windows that have never been broken- and when I see your light it stains my soul with color ...”

“I knew there was something holding me here. It wasn't paprikash. Or nostalgia for my meager childhood... ...Somewhere in me a nearly voiceless child was asking to know the rest of the story that had been interrupted.”

“I love you, Gideon.”“God.” He looked at me with something that resembled disgust. Whether it was directed at me or himself, I didn’t know. “How can you say that?”“Because it’s the truth.”“You just see this”—he gestured at himself with a wave of his hand. “You’re not seeing the fucked-up, broken mess inside.”I inhaled sharply. “You can say that to me? When you know I’m fucked up and broken, too?”