SIXTY FIVE: ON THE SUBJECT OF ILLUMINATION
It is often difficult to see moments reconstructed and replayed in another person’s words. Your voice translated into text, clean and precise, without any sort of stumbling or mispronunciation, which means that whatever has been written is already a half-lie, which probably creates a perfectly sensible balance, as every line that falls out of your throat is only half-truth. What the other half is? Well, we’re not far enough along in the story to be able to tell yet. Once upon a time, a boy met a girl and he named her home. Are you seeing a theme here? Can you sense the loss? She had a name for him but she never said it out loud. He used words like delicious and drunk, and it carried them through the winter all right, but when summer came her hands stayed empty. It wasn’t what anybody wanted, it was barely worth keeping on the tongue. Sometimes you see so much brightness in a person, you can’t look away. It’s like looking at the sun, it isn’t any sort of good for you and just because you feel it all over your skin, doesn’t mean it’s yours.