'Once, after I’d grown pubic hair, I slathered Mum’s Nair all over it. This was in the early 1980s. I don’t know how it is now, but back then Nair smelled like nothing else. The results were unsatisfactory: only some of the hair came off and what was left looked like splinters. Looking down at the mess, I can remember feeling estranged from my body. I wanted to go back to a time when I wasn’t so obviously disgusting, but of course this was impossible.' (Introduction)
'It’s 7.30am. Dark, becoming light. Lighter. Had a dream last night. Several. Only one that I can remember. Driving a vehicle several storeys high. Through the city. Lost on the way.' (Introduction)
'Once, I was walking on a ridge and lightning was sparkling peaks to the east and the west, while a white spear of cloud hurtled straight for us. We found the top of the mountain, felt its texture through our boots, stared at the views, then turned and ran through an explosion of rain that was dark in the fury of its clouds, that swapped the sweat from our faces with its own jealous wet. Going was the only thing to do, but it still felt a terrible idea, because we’d have to leave the top of the mountain. There were still views. We could still see.' (Introduction)
