I have read White Oleander at least ten times.
Why will I never learn that Astrid and Ray’s relationship ends badly, every time? It never changes: the fire of their lovemaking immolates them both; Astrid ends up shot; and Ray is gone forever.
Why do I still romanticize this? I can see the destruction coming, and I still relish the whispers in the dark, the subtle touches, the looks, the stolen moments and kisses. I know the ending, yet I throw my arms wide to welcome it.