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Quote by Raisha Lalwani

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The Diary on the Fifth Floor

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Raisha Lalwani

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“She was constantly running after her daughter, who took life at full speed. Sylvie was a firecracker. Piper loved her daughter'd exuberance, her happy and joyous nature; she even admired her defiance, which she knew mirrored her own. As Sylvie grew into a young girl, it became obvious that she took after her mother. Sylvie could pass for almost anything: Asian, Latin, Eastern European. Like Autumn Avening, she looked like she could be from anywhere and everywhere. Piper didn't think that she herself was truly beautiful, yet even though she saw her own features on her daughter, Sylvie was the most striking child she had ever seen.”

Growing UpMother And DaughterSylvie ShigeruPiper Shigeru
Book:When Autumn Leaves
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“Con l’adolescenza i gesti d’affetto della figlia erano diventati rari – un bacetto sulla guancia, un mezzo abbraccio svogliato – e per questo ancora più preziosi. Era così che andavano le cose, si era detta Mia, ma quanto era dura. Un abbraccio di tanto in tanto, la testa appoggiata per un istante sulla tua spalla, quando la cosa che avresti voluto più di ogni altra era cingerli tra le braccia e tenerli talmente stretti da diventare una cosa sola e inseparabile. Era come allenarti a vivere del solo profumo di una mela quando in realtà avresti voluto divorarla, affondarvi i denti e consumarla fino ai semi, al torsolo, tutto quanto.”

ChildrenGrowing UpMotherhood
Book:Little Fires Everywhere
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“The whole idea of it makes me feel Like I’m coming down with something, Something worse than any stomach ache Or the headaches I get from reading in bad light – A kind of measles of the spirit A mumps of the psyche, A disfiguring chicken pox of the soul. You tell me it is too early to be looking back, But that is because you have forgotten The perfect simplicity of being one And the beautiful complexity introduced by two But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit At four I was an Arabian wizard I could make myself invisible By drinking a glass of milk a certain way. At seven I was a solider, at nine a prince. But now I am mostly at the window Watching the late afternoon light. Back then it never fell so solemnly Against the side of my tree house, And my bicycle never leaned against the garage As it does today, All the dark blue speed drained out of it. This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself, As I walk through the universe in my sneakers. It is time to say good-bye to my imagry friends, Time to turn the first big number.”

AgeGrowing UpGrowing OldAgeingPassage Of Time
Book:Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems
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