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Emily Austin

We Could Be Rats

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A “one-sitting-read” (Laurie Frankel, New York Times bestselling author) about two very different sisters, and a love letter to childhood, growing up, and the power of imagination—from the bestselling author of Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead and Interesting Facts About Space.
Sigrid hates working at the Dollar Pal but having always resisted the idea of growing up into the trappings of adulthood, she did not graduate high school, preferring to roam the streets of her small town with her best friend Greta, the only person in the world who ever understood her. Her older sister Margit is baffled and frustrated by Sigrid's inability to conform to the expectations of polite society.
But Sigrid's detachment veils a deeper turmoil and sensitivity. She's haunted by the pains of her past—from pretending her parents were swamp monsters when they shook the floorboards with their violent arguments to grappling with losing Greta's…
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Impressões

  • Diana Catcompartilhou uma impressãohá 2 meses
    👍Vale a leitura
    💡Aprendi Muito
    🎯Vale a pena
    💞Amoroso
    🚀Não dá pra largar
    🐼Fofinho
    💧Sentimental

Citações

  • Diana Catfez uma citaçãohá 2 meses
    It is strange what some people devote themselves to. When I think of the moments that I was glad to be alive, everyone was happy. I don’t relish a single second I was around anyone who felt miserable. Any time I had to face something sad, I did so out of obligation. I would never, for example, slow down by a car accident or a house fire to appreciate the wreckage. I would prefer to speed by with my eyes closed tight, humming.
  • Diana Catfez uma citaçãohá 2 meses
    One thing I really wrestled with was feeling like there was less love in the world for me. When she died, I felt a shift in the universe. It was more than her absence. I felt the cosmic void where her love for me used to be, like an empty stomach after puking. On top of feeling shattered by her absence, I felt less important with her gone, and also guilty for feeling that way. I wasn’t just mourning her life. I was mourning her love for me. When she died, I felt selfishly less important, and every time I lose someone, I’ll have less purpose. I will degrade in value the longer I live, until there is no point to me.
  • Diana Catfez uma citaçãohá 3 meses
    She always assured me I wasn’t stupid. She told me she believed I could do whatever I wanted. I felt the same way about her. I think we gave each other confidence. It’s occurred to me that everyone needs someone who understands them and believes in them. Having even one person who really gets you, and likes you, feels sort of vital for survival.
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