In the Basins of Collarbones

“All sixteen mentioned her jutting ribs, the insubstantiality of her thighs, and one, who went up to the roof with Lux during a warm winter rain, told us how the basins of her collarbones collected water.”
― Jeffrey Eugenides, The Virgin Suicides
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Live. Die. Live Again. Life comes from death, unable to be stomped out by the assault of misery. The Wasteland is all there is. From dust we came, to Valhalla we go.