The person I am in my head is so far from the person I am in the world. Nobody would know me from my own description of myself; which is why, when called upon {rarely, I grant} to provide an account, I tailor it, I adapt, I try to provide an outline that can, in some way, correlate to the outline that people understand me to have-that, I suppose, I actually have, at this point. But who I am in my head, very few people really get to see that. Almost none. It's the most precious gift I can give, to bring her out of hiding. Maybe I've learned it's a mistake to reveal her at all.
( Claire Messud )
[ The Woman Upstairs ]
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