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" Reina sounds awesome,” Sid says. “I’m digging her more and more.”
“Were you there?” I ask. “Have you seen one of these movies?”
“No,” Scottie says.
“Scottie,” Alex says, kicking Sid in the ribs. “Reina is a fuckedup ho bag, and you need to stay away from her. I’ve already told you that. Do you want to end up like me?”
“Yes,” Scottie says.
“I mean the earlier me, when I was yelling at Mom.”
“No,” Scottie says.
“Well, Reina is going to be a crackhead, and she’s going to get used. She’s a twat. Say it.”
“Twat,” Scottie says. She gets up and runs across the room, saying, “Twat twat twat twat twat.”
“Holy shit,” Sid says. “This is some messed-up parenting. Isn’t it?”
Alex shrugs. “Maybe. I guess we’ll see.”
“I don’t get it,” I say. “I don’t know what to do. These things she does, they keep happening.”
“It will go away,” Alex says.
“Will it? I mean, look at how you kids talk. In front of me, especially. It’s like you don’t respect authority.”
The kids stare at the television. I tell them to get out. I’m going to bed. "
― Kaui Hart Hemmings , The Descendants
130
" Under the seeming disorder of the old city, wherever the old city is working successfully, is a marvelous order for maintaining the safety of the streets and the freedom of the city. It is a complex order. Its essence is intricacy of sidewalk use, bringing with it a constant succession of eyes. This order is all composed of movement and change, and although it is life, not art, we may fancifully call it the art form of the city and liken it to the dance — not to a simple-minded precision dance with everyone kicking up at the same time, twirling in unison and bowing off en masse, but to an intricate ballet in which the individual dancers and ensembles all have distinctive parts which miraculously reinforce each other and compose an orderly whole. The ballet of the good city sidewalk never repeats itself from place to place, and in any once place is always replete with new improvisations. "
― Jane Jacobs , The Death and Life of Great American Cities
132
" Is it love, obsession, infatuation? You don't know. You think of a strange and beautiful word you read about once, Limerance, a psychological term, meaning an obsessive love, a state that's almost like a drug. Need like a wolf paces the perimeter of your world, back and forth, back and forth, never letting up. ...You're appalled by the new appetites within you, kicking their feet and clawing to get out. "
― Nikki Gemmell