The point is there ain't no point.

What would you do if I died? If you died I would want to die too. So you could be with me? Yes. So I could be with you. Okay.

It had ceased raining in the night and he walked out on the road and called for the dog. He called and called. Standing in that inexplicable darkness. Where there was no sound anywhere save only the wind. After a while he sat in the road. He took off his hat and placed it on the tarmac before him and he bowed his head and held his face in his hands and wept. He sat there for a long time and after a while the east did gray and after a while the right and godmade sun did rise, once again, for all and without distinction.

They spoke less and less between them until at last they were silent altogether as is often the way with travelers approaching the end of a journey.

He lay listening to the water drip in the woods. Bedrock, this. The cold and the silence. The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void. Carried forth and scattered and carried forth again. Everything uncoupled from its shoring. Unsupported in the ashen air. Sustained by a breath, trembling and brief. If only my heart were stone.

He said that those who have endured some misfortune will always be set apart but that it is just that misfortune which is their gift and which is their strength.

By the time I was sixteen I had read many books and I had become a freethinker.