Sentimental things, collected, of what she's been doing throughout-throughout, ever since she first held a pen in her hand with a song in her ears, a rhyme on her lips, a boy on her hips, a finger on her shutter, and an incandescent inspiration over her head.

Every body in its natural state is made up of a series of ghostly images superimposed in layers to infinity, wrapped in infinitesimal films. - Balzac