Re: Torchwood

she
believed that it was somehow possible to construct a secret world in which
you could live as you chose. All you needed was luck and cunning and
boldness. She did not understand that there was no such thing as happiness,
that the only victory lay in the far future, long after you were dead, that
from the moment of declaring war on the Party it was better to think of
yourself as a corpse.
'We are the dead,' he said.
'We're not dead yet,' said Julia prosaically.
'Not physically. Six months, a year -- five years, conceivably. I am
afraid of death. You are young, so presumably you're more afraid of it than
I am. Obviously we shall put it off as long as we can. But it makes very
little difference. So long as human beings stay human, death and life are
the same thing.'
'Oh, rubbish! Which would you sooner sleep with, me or a skeleton?
Don't you enjoy being alive? Don't you like feeling: This is me, this is my
hand, this is my leg, I'm real, I'm solid, I'm alive! Don't you like this?'
She twisted herself round and pressed her bosom against him. He could
feel her breasts, ripe yet firm, through her overalls. Her body seemed to
be pouring some of its youth and vigour into his.
'Yes, I like that,' he said.
'Then stop talking about dying. And now listen, dear, we've got to fix
up about the next time we meet. We may as well go back to the place in the
wood. We've given it a good long rest. But you must get there by a
different way this time. I've got it all planned out. You take the train --
but look, I'll draw it out for you.'
And in her practical way she scraped together a small square of dust,
and with a twig from a pigeon's nest began drawing a map on the