‎I have always been fascinated by the ocean, to dip a limb beneath its surface and know that I'm touching eternity, that it goes on forever until it begins here again.

His three wives are huddled together on the bare mattress, one of them dying; when we're together, we form an alliance he can't touch. He's scared to even try.

Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew.

...maybe hope isn't such a bad thing. Maybe it's what keeps us together.

I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.

He says one word, nodding into the daylight. "Look." It's an astounding word. It's a gift.

Don't you miss it?" I say. "Being free." He laughs.