We spend a good deal of our lives knocking on doors. As a teenager, you keep knocking on the door clearly labelled “adulthood,” because you want to do adult things like come home in the morning, have a beer, …

Memory is a f*rkd up thing. Intrusive, relentless. A river that brings down all manner of debris at the most unlikely time; all these things just floating by, some truly ugly, others eager to be clutched at and kept …

Sometimes Joyce would dress up in a nice dress and go meet a man who would turn out to be a wet blanket and then she would have to go back home and sit on the bed with her …