“This city lost its compass, I am telling you, Miguel. Bones. This city is filled with bones. Some alive, some dead, some on life support, some better looking than others. Even the sea looks ossified like an humongous bone condemned to carry the sky on its head forever and ever, amen. I am getting tired of so many aching bones. Articulations that don’t work anymore. Well, apparently, some still crack, and then so many perforated veins in which the blood flows in the wrong direction. Truth be told only God knows what the right direction is anymore. And the cemeteries: there are so many cemeteries. And of course, that brings me back to bones. Even my blouse has the color of bones, and even the roses that Angelo brought me the other night looked suspiciously like bones. And look at the walls of this restaurant!”
The waiter interrupts me.
“Would señorita like some fish tonight?”
“Does it have any bones?”
Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers