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'It was two in the morning and Eva and I were in a rental car on a six-hour drive back to Austin. It was dark and we were both so scared that we promised we would not stop talking and we would not listen to anything other than the Top 40. Pop songs slide right into your head like butter and they stick like chewed gum. They are metal kebab rods that keep the meat all in one place, hovering over an open flame. Eva told me that our fears, deep down, are of the things we think are incomprehensibly beautiful. She said, deep sea and I said, the dark and then, bridges. It was freezing but it was a nice night and the roads were empty so it was an easy drive and we were in the middle of nowhere so the stars were like, OK, we’ll bite, and took to the sky like termites. The woodwork of my skull was cracked so slightly that anything could come in, but nothing could leave.' (Introduction)
