Quote
Her arms were warm and tight. ‘What is it you want?’ she said.
I want to be able to call you. I want to be able to knock on your door. I want to be able to keep your key and to give you mine. I want to be seen with you in public. I want there to be no gossip. I want to make supper with you. I want to go shopping with you. I want to know that nothing can come between us except each other.
We were lying together in the dark. The candle had burned out. Outside the wind was whipping the canvas on the deckchairs. I could hear a plastic tumbler blowing round and round.
You were sleeping.
Why does nothing matter as much as this?
— Jeanette Winterson, The PowerBook
