“He lay there wondering what it must be like to be her, what it felt like from the inside, how the world might look through eyes like a pig’s eyes, what it must be like to breathe in air through such a misshapen nose—did she even smell the same things as normal people? And what would it be like to touch a body like that every day while washing, or scratching, while doing all the usual little things? Never once did he feel sorry for her. If he had sympathized with her, he never would have thought of proposing.”
Olga Tokarczuk, “The Ugliest Woman in the World”
Tumbleroll
Colophon
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