Circe by Madeline Miller

From one task to another I went, weaving, working, slopping my pigs, crossing and recrossing the isle. I moved straight-backed, as if a great brimming bowl rested in my hands. The dark liquid rippled as I walked, always at the point of overflow, yet never flowing. Only if I stopped, if I lay down, did I feel it begin to bleed.

A retelling of the tale of Circe which runs through many Greek myths through her eyes. She is easy to relate to in this work which explores independence and freedom as a woman alone. The line is taken from after a scene in which a man attempts to assault her leaving her feeling as if 'her flesh had congealed around her'.