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Quote by Michelle Griep

“An ache throbbed deep inside, in the cavern of his heart, for want of his own child. His own little man whom he could love and be loved by. A son born of passion, by a woman who would delight to bear his child. Who would delight in him.”

Quote by Michelle Griep

Book:Lost in Darkness
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Lost in Darkness

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Michelle Griep

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“Jess and Polly stood without speaking, letting the sounds of the garden resettle. A flock of tiny fairy wrens darted busily in and around the base of a nearby plum tree, crickets ticked in the long grass, and a sense of timelessness, of nature, older and more pervasive than anything human beings and their histories could generate, grew thick and warm around them. "Shall we take a walk down together?" said Polly. Jess noticed a new note of self-possession in her mother's voice. Summery air threaded across the back of her neck, and she felt a pull, suddenly, deep inside her. She didn't know whether it was being here, in this place, or the beautiful weather that evoked long childhood days in which the hours stretched away to be filled only with pleasure, or the fact that it was Christmas Eve, or that her mother was standing here with her, solid and present in a way she hadn't been before, so that Jess was seeing her as if for the first time. But she felt a sensation in her chest that was quite the opposite of loneliness. "Are you with me?" Polly was searching Jess's face, waiting for an answer. Jess gave a nod and smiled. "I am.”

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“A família talvez seja nossa primeira prisão. Muito do que somos hoje tem a ver com criações desestruturadas, inconsequentes ou castradoras. Ela é muitas vezes responsável pelas nossas inseguranças, nosso vazio, nossa falta de amor. E você sabia que até as famílias foram criadas para servir ao capital? Antigamente vivíamos em comunidades, em tribos. Casais se uniam por amor. As crianças eram criadas pela comunidade. Não havia casamento ou família. A família surgiu para dar conta da propriedade particular de pessoas poderosas que conseguiam acumular posses, riqueza, e queriam que ela ficasse somente com seus descendentes. O casamento surgiu, as famílias se institucionalizaram e os homens passaram a ser os donos de tudo - inclusive de suas mulheres.”

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“He looked right into her eyes; didn’t she know the way she was? She had always treated him like that, his eyes argued. She did not agree—she had never treated him like this, he had spent his lifetime criticizing her. That was only true because she had spent her lifetime criticizing him—and that was how they always came back here, sometimes a wordless moment, their eyes glancing at each other like in a fencing match, each of them accusing the other of playing the role of the victim, portraying each other as the enemy to justify their self-inflicted wounds. She had turned into an uneducated woman (he would argue). He was evil (she would say), he was unable to recognize and acknowledge the good things people tried to do for him.”

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“Pariva was a small village, unimportant enough that it rarely appeared on any maps of Esperia. Bordered by mountains and sea, it seemed untouched by time. The school looked the same as she remembered; so did the market and Mangia Road---a block of eating establishments that included the locally famous Belmagio bakery---and cypress and laurel and pine trees still surrounded the local square, where the villagers came out to gossip or play chess or even sing together. Had it really been forty years since she had returned? It seemed like only yesterday that she'd strolled down Pariva's narrow streets, carrying a sack of pine nuts to her parents' bakery or stopping by the docks to watch the fishing boats sail across the glittering sea. Back then, she'd been a daughter, a sister, a friend. A mere slip of a young woman. Home had been a humble two-storied house on Constanza Street, with a door as yellow as daffodils and cobblestoned stairs that led into a small courtyard in the back. Her father had kept a garden of herbs; he was always frustrated by how the mint grew wild when what he truly wanted to grow was basil. The herbs went into the bread that her parents sold at their bakery. Papa crafted the savory loaves and Mamma the sweet ones, along with almond cakes drizzled with lemon glaze, chocolate biscuits with hazelnut pralines, and her famous cinnamon cookies. The magic the Blue Fairy had grown up with was sugar shimmering on her fingertips and flour dusting her hair like snow. It was her older brother, Niccolo, coaxing their finicky oven into working again, and Mamma listening for the crackle of a golden-brown crust just before her bread sang. It was her little sister Ilaria's tongue turning green after she ate too many pistachio cakes. Most of all, magic was the smile on Mamma's, Papa's, Niccolo's, and Ilaria's faces when they brought home the bakery's leftover chocolate cake and sank their forks into a sumptuous, moist slice. After dinner, the Blue Fairy and her siblings made music together in the Blue Room. Its walls were bluer than the midsummer sky, and the windows arched like rainbows. It'd been her favorite room in the house.”

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