Daisy Johnson is a literary genius. Her work is dark and twisted and you get lost in the gaps between words which suddenly seem more sinister than in any other book. Reading makes you feel grimy, like you've been walking around a city in the heat of summer and are now coated with dirt plastered to your sticky sweat, your nostrils expelling dark snot. Startling until you remember breathing air filled with the fumes of hundreds of cars. Each story was haunting and eerie, my skin kept prickling with goosebumps at lines that slipped through my fingers like cold dark ink. Only to be brought back in the next story. The repetitive shifting between perspectives that could have been the women from the last story, the ghost from within the walls, made you feel like maybe you were going mad too.