“I hated museums, and libraries, and any kind of historic building. I loathed old things, whose flawless, polished form had been impeccably preserved. I hated things that endured without breaking, that accrued value through aging. The longer I lived, the more my body collapsed into an ever more aberrant shape. It wasn’t collapsing into death. Rather, it collapsed so as to live, collapsed as a testament to all the time I’d withstood.”
