I can see your dirtypillows. Everyone will. They'll be looking at your body. The Book says— Those are my breasts, Momma. Every woman has them.

I can't believe how many people still fall for the coin glued to the sidewalk.

She remembered the pleasurable warm smell of the cow droppings […] as if the four-divided stomachs of the great oxen were filled with nothing but concentrated memories of hours of grazing along the water heavy vleis.

It jumps with my humour.