"Sometimes a thing is--too much--and it has to be isolated and put away." Martin shrugged. "So what's in the boxes is--emotion. In the form of objects."
(135 Her Fearful Symmetery)
The bedroom floor was covered with filth. Germs, shit, vomit: someone had got into the flat and smeared horrible slime over the floor. Why? Martin wondered. Why does this always happen? Is this possible? No, it's not real. But what can I do about it?
As if he had asked the question out loud, an answer came to him: Count backwards from a thousand, in Roman numerals. Touch the headboard while you do it. Of course! Martin began to comply, but faltered at DCCXXIII and had to start again. As he counted, he wondered, with a separate part of his brain, why this was necessary. He lost track again, started again.
(97 Her Fearful Symmetry)
I think Martin and I have a lot in common.
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