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Sima B. Moussavian
Goodreads Author
Born
in Munich, Germany
Website
Genre
Influences
Charles Bukowski, Charles Bronson, ETA Hoffmann, Shakespeare, Novalis,
...more
Member Since
February 2022
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/sbmoussavian
The Death of Marta Lotter
They are both screw-ups. That is about everything that they have in common. Apart from it, they would have had no reason to ever speak: they don’t like the same people, not the same movies, not the same music. Grunge rock horror kind of girl meets hip-hop stand-up type of guy, and that this combination is painful at best, has been common knowledge ever since those grunge rap days, meaning they sho
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“It's always the same with relationships: As if they were a fancy sheepskin jacket, you get yourself one to stay warm on cold winter nights and show it off a bit. At first, it fits you perfectly until suddenly it becomes too loose, too tight, too long, too wide and from then on you don't look after it anymore. You stop taking care of it, throw up all over it on the next binge, and when you wake up in the morning the whole house smells of wet sheep and stomach acid. That's how, sooner rather than later, it ends up in the old clothes container and even though you promise yourself that next time you'll buy the expensive care product that the saleswoman with the fake smile has tried to sell you, you still won't do it, because it sounds like effort and who would put any into something they'll end up losing anyway?”
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Sima Moussavian
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“He had spat her on the street like a chewed out chewing gum but stumbled into her again every now and then and for some reason she just kept sticking. Maybe a little less each time it happened, but if she was going to be stuck on him much longer she would only ruin his brand-new shoes.”
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“That is the biggest problem with the truth: When you don't lock it in, it escapes you and, like a stray, it may be taken in by someone else.”
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“Does anyone ever recognize themselves when they look back? When they see who they used to be at some point in their life, or do the things that you remember always feel like something unknown, strange? Does the caterpillar know it will become a butterfly? Do maggots suspect that at some stage they'll grow wings and once they are flying, would they recognize themselves when looking at a maggot in the trash?”
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
“Maybe that’s what’s immanent to humanity: they strive to know and when they do they still make nothing of it. They come to know and know, but refuse to learn and have to make the same mistakes all over again. Can you really blame them? They are only human, after all, and the world must end twice before they learn a lesson.”
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
“No matter what you have heard: the line between life and death is not definite. Not like a wall, thick and hard to break, but constantly moving and volatile. It isn’t actually a line: not visible to the eye, but as hard to define as the water passage where the tide meets a river current. Standing at the shore, can anyone determine where the river ends and the sea begins and standing in life, can anyone determine when exactly they start to die?”
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“Anger is a disease. You catch it when you are at your weakest and once you are suffering from it, you are highly contagious.”
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“I was too young to imagine what truth really meant and too old to believe that one day it would always win. Truths are no shining key to help you open the doors to better places. They are a burden: a curse that lies upon you until you impose it on someone else.”
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
“My hands would touch the weathered rock behind me: rugged but smooth on the edges it would feel and I would be wondering how long it would be until the elements would succeed in grinding it down, in wearing it off so the sea would finally get to take it away. Millions of years, I’d be thinking, with my fingers in the brittle cracks that the continuously freezing and melting water had left on its surface and thinking this, I would have to remind myself that I would still be there to see it. I would still be there, once everything around me would be gone. There, in a dead and invariable wasteland and these would be the moments when it would hit me like rockfall: the futility of eternity”
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
“How do survivors feel? Relieved and grateful, perhaps. As excited about their saved life as if it were a gift that the rustling fingers feverishly unwrap from its packaging on Christmas morning and whatever is underneath: you are happy. This is how it should be when you have survived the worst. Far from the crippling horror we were feeling.”
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
― Tomorrow death died out: What if the future were past?
