A review by emilybilodeau
Year of the Monkey by Patti Smith

“The waitress was pretty but had a piece of skin hanging from her lip. I couldn't stop staring at it. In my mind, it got bigger and heavier, then detached and plopped into an imagined bowl of steaming broth that widened, forming a bubbling pool, where an imitation of life emerged. I shook my head. The things that transport us can be so random.”

I love Patti