This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear: return to what you once loved best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on.
Chris CleaveDeath, of course, is a refuge. It's where you go when a new name, or a mask and cape, can no longer hide you from yourself. It's where you run to when none of the principalities of your conscience will grant you asylum.
Chris CleaveI think all of us are intrigued to imagine what we as individuals would become, if we were ever tested as hard as that golden generation was.
Chris Cleave