Tomorrow was over the horizon, and would take an entire day to reach.

We believed in our grandmother’s cooking more fervently than we believed in God.

She is deranged, but so so playful.

She saw through the shell of me into the center of me

It is not a thing that you can imagine. It only is. After that, there can be no imagining.

I am always sad, I think. Perhaps this signifies that I am not sad at all, because sadness is something lower than your normal disposition, and I am always the same thing. Perhaps I am the only person in the world, then, who never becomes sad. Perhaps I am lucky.

I wanted to tell her everything, maybe if I'd been able to, we could have lived differently, maybe I'd be there with you now instead of here. Maybe... if I'd said, 'I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything,' maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn't do it, I had buried too much too deeply inside me. And here I am, instead of there.