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The world might be in disarray, but for one young woman, the very weave of herself seems to have loosened. Time and memories pass straight through her body, she's afraid of her own floorboards, and 'WHAT IS LOVE? BABY DON'T HURT ME' plays over and over in her ears. 'I'm sorry not to respond to your email,' she writes, 'but I live completely in the present now.'

But tearing through the slippery terrains of fiction and reality, the possibility for human connection seems to beckon from the other side - and

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The world might be in disarray, but for one young woman, the very weave of herself seems to have loosened. Time and memories pass straight through her body, she's afraid of her own floorboards, and 'WHAT IS LOVE? BABY DON'T HURT ME' plays over and over in her ears. 'I'm sorry not to respond to your email,' she writes, 'but I live completely in the present now.'

But tearing through the slippery terrains of fiction and reality, the possibility for human connection seems to beckon from the other side - and

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