"A Breath of Life" was one of those books where I groaned upon reading the first paragraph because I knew it was going to be really good, it would hurt me. I was taking note after note of my favourite--or most impactful--lines and I felt so out of breath. How do I even describe what this book was? It was raw, it was confessional, it was Clarice splitting herself into two just to bare the universe inside her spirit. 

Maybe it was the timing because I was going through something internally but every time I picked it up, it made me feel so emotional. There was something so spiritual about my quality time with Clarice and I don't know how to explain it. But I feel so seen, and yet I'm learning more things. Things I've never really thought of before. Magic, yes, it was certainly magical. I feel like a Lispector literature worshipper. 

I've grown so fond of Angela. I feel so connected to her, as if she were a younger me. It must've been so painful for Clarice to birth her, to see her walk and grow and to meet her end, like watching your own child. Their relationship resembles a mother-daughter duo. The mother tutting at her naivety, then worrying at how similar they're becoming. 

A wonderful, incredible book. For an incomplete novel, I believe it is never-ending. And not because it was incomplete, but because if you read it from the start, it picks up like a continuous cycle. An ouroboros.