"I didn’t want to know that the monster that lived under your bed when you were a kid not only really is there but used to have a few beers with your dad."

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You were just a boy on a bed in a room, like a kaleidoscope is a tube full of bits of broken glass. But the way I saw you was pieces refracting the light, shifting into an infinite universe of flowers and rainbows and insects and planets, magical dividing cells, pictures no one else knew.

— Francesca Lia Block