“She wondered what an unreleased soul, a soul-shaped stone on a funeral pyre, might look like. Like a starfish maybe. Or a millipede. Or a dappled moth with a living body and stone wings – poor moth – betrayed, held down by the very things that were meant to help it to fly.”

“She wondered what an unreleased soul, a soul-shaped stone on a funeral pyre, might look like. Like a starfish maybe. Or a millipede. Or a dappled moth with a living body and stone wings – poor moth – betrayed, held down by the very things that were meant to help it to fly.”

— Arundhati Roy