...and the distance between them, millimeters only, the space of a breath, opened up and deepened, became a cavern at whose edge he stood.

Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.

Music is like you touch the pulse of the world. Music is always happening, and sometimes you get to touch it for a while, and when you do you know that everything's connetcted to everything else.

The place was a familiar as breath but as far from his life now as the moon.

He had handed his daughter to Caroline Gill and that act had led him here, years later, to this girl in motion of her own, this girl who had decided yes, a brief moment of release in the back of a car, in the room of a silent house, this girl who had stood up later, adjusting her clothes, with now knowledge of how that moment was already shaping her life.

Away from the bright motion of the party, she carried her sadness like a dark stone clenched in her palm.

I've been accused of trying too hard to rescue people