Life is a perpetual yesterday for us.

Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.

These were the lovely bones that had grown around my absence: the connections-sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost, but often magnificent-that happened after I was gone. And I began to see things in a way that let me hold the world without me in it. The events that my death wrought were merely the bones of a body that would become whole at some unpredictable time in the future. The price of what I came to see as this miraculous body had been my life.

My name is Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered.

I went to church irregularly and was mostly reading comics in the pew.

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