In his dream she was sick and he cared for her. The dream bore the look of sacrifice but he thought differently. He did not take care of her and she died alone somewhere in the dark and there is no other dream nor other waking world and there is no other tale to tell.
Cormac McCarthyAll progressions from a higher to a lower order are marked by ruins and mystery and a residue of nameless rage.
Cormac McCarthy