Then she says, ‘I love you.’ Like three drops of blood falling onto snow.
. . . my bones they'll burn or bury. It'll be my death.
Hold my hand. Don't let go.
Maybe you should say goodbye, Cal.' 'No.' 'It might be important.' 'It might make her die.
Adam strokes my head, my face, he kisses my tears. We are blessed. Let them all go. The sound of a bird flying low across the garden. Then nothing. Nothing. A cloud passes. Nothing again. Light falls through the window, falls onto me, into me. Moments. All gathering towards this one.
a little bird moves a mountain of sand one grain at a time it picks up one grain every million years and when the mountain has been moved the bird puts it all back again and that's how long eternity is and that's a very long time to be dead