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Back The Scent of Your Breath Save as PDF
Chapters (45)
  1. Cover Page
  2. The Scent of Your Breath
  3. Dedication
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Fear holds me by the hand now and my trembling never ceases. I’m trembling now as I write, I tremble when I’m eating, I tremble as I let the water flow over my body, I tremble as I look at him, as I stare at the sky, I tremble as flocks of birds make shapes and patterns in the Roman sky. I spend hours staring at them from the window, as they perform pirouettes and veer to the right and then to the left, making circles, whirlwinds, they look like hairy moles, then they plunge down, down, to the branches of the trees.

I tremble. I tremble as everything vibrates in the world, in the air. I tremble because I know that there’s still life out there and I can’t live it.

I need to look at the life I have inside me, that dark life, disconnected from all the others; I need to live inside myself, because outside no one can let me live. I thought he was capable of letting me live and wouldn’t let me die one day at a time. But that’s what he’s doing, and I’d rather he killed me all of a sudden, once and for all, with a well-aimed blow.

THIRTY-FOUR

Lying on my stomach on the bed, my face suffocating in the pillow, I put my arms behind my head and slowly start to braid my hair.

“Holy Monday, Holy Tuesday, Holy Wednesday, Holy Thursday …,” I murmur.

I braid it slowly and diligently, taking tiny bunches of hair between my fingers.

I think that if I do this before she does, nothing will happen to me.

My body is arched, my arms hurt because of the position I have assumed, like a spider trapped in its own web.

I tress five or six bunches of hair, run my fingertip along the plait, and feel it, smooth, hard, and very small.

I tell myself that this way she can’t hurt me.

But suddenly I think of him, and I think he’s exposed to danger, too.

What if the dragonfly came tonight and tressed his hair? He’d be bound to her forever and I’d never be able to have him back, not even if I cut myself into tiny, tiny little pieces and slipped under his shoes.

So, at night, I will cuddle up next to him and when he shuts his eyes I will lightly, silently, braid his hair.

And he will be safe. We will be safe.

THIRTY-FIVE

That time when I grew wings and my eyes dimmed until they were sightless, his absence became inevitable.

Now I have gulped her down in a single mouthful, because she was the only thing I could eat, because nothing now can give me as much nourishment as a human being. What I want is women’s flesh, the flesh of a wicked, terrible woman, a dragonfly-woman.

I am something different and dark.