. . . and she can't really use the word hurled - as in hurled into this place on her own - because to be hurled is to be thrown in a certain direction, but there's no direction in this, and no momentum, it's more like she's been let go of. Something, whatever it may be - life? - has let go of her, like a hand that was holding her tight and then just opened.
Stay with Me, Hanne Ørstavik










