“The ears had a pinkish color—a real lively color, like if The Head had stepped out in the cold of the previous night and come back in the morning. Simon marveled at the thought that El Chato had really killed this man with a saw.”
“He knew that feeling, his lungs filling up with the glycerin-like fluid of a new day, and himself gargling and grasping for regular air, the air in his bed, the air with the windows closed. He felt small, and had tried imagining other people’s windows, but felt weird because he couldn’t comprehend the number of windows in the world.”
“I was a swimmer in the night. The moon on my face, I dove off rocks and cliffs. I swim in my dreams and they sound like the breaths of fish past my face.”