The Home of Friday

This part of the final section really grabbed my attention. On page 157, "But this is not a place of words. Each syllable, as it comes out is caught and filled with water and diffused. This is a place where bodies are their own signs. It is the home of Friday". I can only imagine that speaking underwater must be what it is like to have no tongue. The frustration that comes with not being able to communicate, trying to push heavy words out of your mouth only to have them dissipate like bubbles in water. The home of Friday is this silence and mystery since after all, Friday is nothing but a living corpse, forever a mystery trapped in a body that might as well be at the bottom the ocean.